


Ambitions

by dentigerous, wraithnoir



Series: The Corruption of Ben Solo [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corruptor Hux, Dark Side use of the force, F/M, Force boners, Hux Backstory, M/M, Mental Control, Mind Games, Past Child Abuse, Seduction to the Dark Side, Slow Burn, Smuggler Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 67,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7116661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentigerous/pseuds/dentigerous, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraithnoir/pseuds/wraithnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young smuggler Ben Solo is on board the Finalizer...by his own will. His relationship with Hux becomes something bordering on amicable and he finds that out of everything he thought he would hate, the general is the least of his ires. Sometimes. It's a tumultuous road for the young man, who would still call himself a spice runner, but he's faced with more choices, decisions and perhaps most of all, the power of the Dark Side becomes undeniable. </p><p>General Hux is fascinated with this man, bordering on obsessive. His need for control comes through in all things, and he's determined that he will control Ben, or find a way to destroy him. Despite the other man's sensitivity, Hux is clever, and his subtle touch seems to be just enough to turn Ben away from the Light, and deeper towards the power of the Dark Side. He will be the one to corrupt Ben Solo, or Ben will not be taken at all.</p><p>(Or the AU where Ben doesn't go dark side as a teenager, becomes a smuggler, and Hux corrupts him instead. Part 2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Second Part of our Kylux series, [The Corruption of Ben Solo. We'd strongly advise you to read the first part before this one.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7116661/chapters/16165195)
> 
> T/W will be at the start of each chapter, entire series complete.

The Upsilon-class shuttle flew easily into the massive docking port on the west end of the ship, its wings folding up as the landing activations were engaged. Hux turned from the bridge, walking to the ramp where Phasma waited with her small partial company of troopers.

Hux assumed Ben would follow him, and he spoke over his shoulder.

“I’ll show you to your berth first; you can rest, then I’ll give you an abbreviated tour of the ship.”

Ben nodded slowly, feeling a little overwhelmed for the first time. He told himself it was just the size of the giant Star Destroyer; who wouldn’t feel intimidated by something like this, stuffed to the brim with stormtroopers? He was a smuggler. He didn’t tend to walk into situations like this by just...walking into them. He shifted the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he walked after Hux. At least, he thought, they hadn’t asked him to hand over his weapons.

“Yeah, sounds good. Looks like you got a good thing going on here.” He glanced over at Phasma again (who was a woman, he reminded himself with some embarrassment, why had he assumed she’d be a man? Maybe because they were nearly the same height?), then looked away quickly. “How many troopers on this thing? Where do you dock the TIEs? How many guns does she have?” He followed Hux, making sure he didn’t lag too far behind as he looked around. He felt like he’d get lost here very easily, and that was an additional embarrassment he really didn’t need.

Hux made a noise as he walked down the ramp quickly, receiving another pad from an officer waiting at the bottom. The one he’d left on the Javelin would be wiped and put into a stack of tech ready for the next data dump. His coat was draped over his shoulders and he gestured, dismissing Phasma and the troopers as he continued through the hangar with only Ben by his side.

“I should tell you that information is classified,” Hux muttered, glancing up at Ben with his pale eyebrows raised. He looking down at the pad and opened it, scrolling through the urgent reports before he answered. “We have nearly two legions of troopers on board, somewhere in between fifty and fifty five thousand enlisted men, twenty thousand officers. Two starfighter wings down both sides of the ship, two thousand turrets, ion cannons and point-defence missile emplacements.”

“Mother of Kwa’th,” Ben breathed, shaking his head slowly. This was so much more firepower than the First Order had shown in its skirmishes on the edges of the Unknown Regions; their minor Outer Rim tormenting of freighters and the occasional smuggling vessel were never considered much more than a nuisance. “How many of these things do you have? How many stormtroopers total?” He rolled his shoulders and put one hand on his blaster as though it was some sort of comfort. He felt himself getting smaller and smaller inside the behemoth.

Hux made a noise, shrugging. He gestured as they exited the hangar, heading to the in-tram station that would allow them to travel to the far southern end of the ship where the officers’ quarters were.

“A fleet, an armament, more every day.”

“But you don’t actively recruit outside of the Unknown Regions. How does that work? The New Republic does keeps tabs on the Outer Rim, and apart from some bits of propaganda that, let’s be real here, nobody takes seriously, you don’t have a presence.” Ben was still frowning as they moved through the ship. His attention was grabbed constantly by passing stormtroopers, who kept to tight, ready formations. They didn’t seem real; they seemed like something taken from a holovid. “How many, total?”

Hux made a noise, frowning as they got to the waiting station. If the New Republic wanted to underestimate them, so be it. It would soon be their downfall. “The First Order is not some fledgling splinter group. We’re aware that many senators like to reduce our actions down to simple extremism. But as you’re seeing here, that isn’t true.” He glanced up, frowning at the schedule, and shook his head.

“Sentients come to us, Ben. We’re finally putting the Unknown Regions in order, we’re establishing an authority away from the corrupt Core and hyped superiority of the Mid-Rim planets.”

“And the white armor and the Star Destroyers and all...this.” Ben gestured to Hux, meaning his uniform. “Why not something new?”

“We have our roots in the Empire, and despite the less than agreeable temperament of the leadership at large, it provided an effective method for ruling large swaths of systems.” Hux made a gesture on the pad as the tram slid to a stop at the station. He got on, knowing that Ben would follow. “Why waste time developing new armor, schematics, uniforms, when we can simply improve on our history?”

That was the vague idea of all of this. Take the old and make it new. Better. Hux knew that while the First Order fleet was smaller than their opponent’s, their technology was advanced beyond whatever paltry starships the Senate still had in their reserves after the galaxy-wide demilitarization agreement. The First ORder ships were faster, larger, more capable. The officers were better educated, the troopers were better trained, the entire Order was a culture of militarism and structure that was unparalleled in the known universe.

“I guess ‘improvement’ is subjective. I can think of a lot of people who aren’t as keen to see those helmets bobbing around as you are. I had one as a kid, stole it from a junk room on a ship my dad got in a trade; I kept it in my room.” Ben leaned back against the wall at the station, folding his arms over his chest. “I kept it hidden, because I knew as soon as it got seen, it would be taken away. Guess what. I was right. And I got sent to bed early, without dinner.”

Hux had to resist rolling his eyes.

“How terrible,” he murmured, glancing at Ben with his eternal eyebrow raise. “That must have been so hard for you.”

Ben snorted and looked over at the general, still smiling a little. He raised one hand and made a rude gesture he’d picked up at a dinner when he was eleven.

“All I’m saying is that it’s not...a popular motif. You get that, right? Most systems aren’t lining up for the Galactic Empire, mach two.” He shifted and made a face, lowering his arms. It hurt to stand like that, pushing the glass deeper into his skin.

“People will have their preconceptions,” Hux muttered, watching Ben, almost...amused by the way the man was acting. Childish, perhaps, but definitely interesting. “And being recognizable is important, even if people recognize the Empire.”

Ben took a deep breath and looked down at his boots. He was leaning in a way he’d practiced very carefully from watching his father, that effortless lean with one ankle crossed over the other indicating that he didn’t have anywhere to be for hours. He’d worked on it for so long it actually was natural, now that Han Solo didn’t even stand like that anymore.

“It’s not always great to be recognized.” He glanced over at Hux. “I’d have figured you got that when people started shooting at you.”

Hux made a noise, still looking down at the pad as the interior of the _Finalizer_ shot past them. The in-tram stopped at stations with almost no kickback, making Hux’s easy stance seem much more impressive. “It is easier to identify enemies when they’re aiming at you.”

“True,” Ben muttered, as much to himself as to the general. “What’re you reading over there? Catching up on the gossip you missed?”

“Yes,” Hux said, frowning. He glanced up as the tram slowed again and gestured, turning to the exit. “Here.”

He got off the tram, tucking the pad under his arm as he walked through to the lift. He waited until Ben was inside before pressing the button to the officers’ level.

“The main bridge is in the uppermost levels,” he explained as they were shot up into the higher sections of the _Finalizer_. “The high ranking officers’ quarters are just underneath. ”

Ben ran his hand through his hair, looking up as though he’d see anything but the ceiling. How the hells would he find his way back to the hangar when he wanted out?

“Guess I should have brought a change of clothes; didn’t know I’d be staying with the bigshots.” He looked back to Hux, who looked unflappable and still faintly smug. Ben wanted to hit him. No reason. Just because.

“We can get you civilian clothes. Or a trooper’s approximation of civilian clothes,” Hux said, glancing at his pad again. “You can even tear off the insignia, if it offends you that much.”

“I can end up with a whole collection of your sweet patches.” Ben patted his bag. The insignia he’d ripped off the sleeve of Hux’s greatcoat was still tucked into the satchel, which was carrying all manner of random things at the moment. “I’m picky about my clothes though,” he continued, gesturing down at his patched assortment of pieces that was passing as an outfit. “So...just to warn you.”

“I couldn’t care less what you choose or choose not to wear,” Hux said dismissively, glancing at Ben and shrugging. “You’ll have clean clothes; if you...choose to wear them, that’s your decision.”

The lift slowed and Hux exited, walking down the long, mostly deserted hallway. Officers in various states of dress walked past them, some in their full uniform, others wearing loungewear approved for use in the off-duty hours. The officers on this level all wore dark grey, with some red accents on the loungewear, allowing individuality in small, tempered doses. Ben’s clothes stood out in sharp contrast to the sleek lines of the officers’ attire, whether they were dressed formally or not. He felt shabby as he never had when stopping off to visit his mother. Then he just felt like he was something apart from the richly dressed Senators, something roguish and exciting. Here he felt like he should have at least washed his face. He was pretty sure this was not a great first impression.

Many of the officers saluted Hux, although they didn’t stand at attention, inclining their heads slightly as he walked by. Ben continued to look around curiously, trying to ascertain exactly where they were going. He couldn’t imagine the general was going to put him into a berth too close to these men and women, for fear of...what? That he’d start a fight? Steal from their rooms? Bring down the aesthetic of the whole level?

“Where are we headed?” he asked finally.

“The Commander’s wing,” Hux said, and they turned a corner, devoid of officers or doors save for one entrance at the end of the hallway. “There are three berths here; two are reserved for any visiting officer of note. You will have one for your own use.”

He took out one of the code cylinders on his new uniform, holding it to the doors. He led Ben through the main foyer, which displayed a small amount of luxury. It was still militarily-efficient, but the floors were a polished dark grey granite and some of the details along the walls were inlaid with petrified wood.

Hux went over to the right side door, using the same cylinder to open the berth. “This one is yours.”

Ben was still looking around the foyer when Hux pointed out where he’d be staying. He walked over, peeking into the berth as though loathe to walk into a trap. The level of luxury was stepped up from the lounge, but it maintained a certain austerity in the lines and the dark colors. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he was definitely impressed.

“Huh...nice. Not what I’m accustomed to, but I guess I can deign to stay here for a bit,” he said, smirking over at Hux to see if he’d crack a smile. Even once. Maybe. Had he ever? Perhaps he never did and his face would split if he tried. Huh.

Hux made a noise, shaking his head. He walked forward into the berth, tucking his cylinder back into his coat. It wasn’t a massive suite, but it had a large living area with a bay window, a low table in front of a couch, a small chair, and in the corner where the would usually be a desk or library sectional, the technician’s table and tools Hux requested had been installed. He went to the table in front of the couch and picked up another code cylinder.

“You have a small galley through there,” he pointed to his left, “although you are free to have meals sent from the kits on the lower levels. Or you can have your own ingredients set up, if you’d like to prepare your own meals.” He pointed to the other side of the berth. “You have your own quarters through there, as well as an attached washroom.”

Hux took a few steps forward, holding the cylinder out to Ben.

“This will allow you access throughout the _Finalizer_. Information and comm capabilities are attached to the pad on the table.”

“I’m guessing those are pretty restricted?” Ben asked as he accepted the cylinder from the other man, looking down at it for a moment. Hux shifted to put his hands behind his back as Ben looked up again. “You’re not assigning me some sort of security detail to make sure I don’t wander too much?”

Hux frowned, looking skeptical.

“No,” he said carefully, trying to present as much sincerity as he could. “You’re a smart man, and I think that you at least have an inkling of how to behave on board another’s ship. I have allowed you access to most of the _Finalizer_ , although you will not be able to take a transport off without notifying me beforehand, and you will still need to knock before getting into my berth. The comm will work throughout the ship, and you can request access to inter-ship or inter-system communications through me. I’m sure you understand for security reasons I can’t allow you full access to the comm capabilities.”

Going back to the table, he took the pad he had ordered prepared for Ben and brought it over to him, unlocking it with a swipe of his hand over the scanner and tapping on a small icon in the corner.

“A map, if you’re so interested in testing your freedom.”

Ben looked down at the pad, quickly storing away the icons Hux tapped so he’d remember for later. He was pretty sure he’d meet up with some sort of resistance at some point, but for now, he’d play by all of the rules and just feel his way through.

“I’m sure I can find enough to keep myself busy.” He gestured behind them with his thumb. “That bench back there...is that for me to use?”

Hux looked over and nodded.

“I had it replace the library, however if you’d prefer that, I can have it changed.”

“Modular. Nice.” Ben took a deep breath, finally taking his hand off his blaster. He hadn’t realized he’d still been resting his hand on it. “I think I’ll catch up on some sleep.” He had no intention of doing that right away, but it sounded like what he should be doing. He wanted to look over the whole berth, then move on to the rest of the ship.

He also was desperate to eat something. He always forgot how hungry excessive Force usage made him.

Hux made a noise, stepping away to go behind Ben and open the berth door again.

“As you’d like. I will be on the bridge for a few hours before retiring. Keep that cylinder on you or you won’t be able to get off this level or back into your berth,” Hux instructed, eyebrows up slightly. “If you’d like a recommendation on how to spend your time, I’d suggest the simulators.” Hux smirked slightly. “You seemed eager to get your hands on the Javelin, perhaps you’d like to practice flying a TIE?”

Ben looked up from the cylinder he’d been tossing hand to hand. He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his expression; if there was a time to say a man’s eyes were shining, it was at that moment.

“Seriously?” He smirked and shook his head, watching the General carefully. “There’s no way in the fourteen hells you’re going to let me fly one of those things.” He licked his lips. “I mean...if I liked the simulator and I did okay...would you let me fly one of the real ones?”

Hux shrugged, eyebrows up.

“Perhaps with supervision,” he said, still smirking slightly. “Keep records of your sim results on the pad, and I’ll review them. I’ll warn you that TIEs are challenging ships, unlike anything else you’ve ever flown. There are several different versions; Advantage, Avenger, Defender, Interceptor.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can handle them,” Ben said with a casual shrug and a smirk that matched the general’s. “It’s in my blood, after all.”

Hux made a noise, gesturing to the pad. “By all means, prove yourself.” The general nodded towards the personal room, eyebrows up again. “Med kits are in the washroom, in case you were wondering.” Ben nodded as though he’d been just about to ask that question; in reality, he’d been planning on checking through the workbench for something he could use to yank the glass out of his side.

Taking a step back, Hux looked at his own pad before going into the foyer and heading for the exit. “I’m for the bridge. Use Tower to contact me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, of course. Have fun.” Ben stood in the doorway to watch the general leave. “I’m sure I’ll catch up later on.” He wasn’t quite sure what to do first, honestly. He’d been waffling between showering and wandering and briefly napping, but the temptation of a TIE simulator was a siren call that was hard to resist.

Hux nodded and left quickly, the doors snapping shut behind him as he headed back through the officers’ level to the lift, taking it up to the bridge and quickly finding his place on the deck. He was exhausted but refused to show it, giving orders to his bridge colonels and sending a message to Supreme Leader Snoke from his datapad as he listened to reports stream in.

The general tapped a small icon on his pad, a little tracker he had put into the cylinder and pad Ben was currently possessed. Even the general had his curiosity. He could track his guest’s movements as Ben spent a little time poking through his berth, opening every cabinet and other storage compartment, sitting on the bed, turning the water on in the shower without actually showering.

The smuggler was taking stock of everything, trying to plan what he should do first. Insistent parts of him said ‘food, sleep, medical care,’ but really, those were the most boring parts. Tucking the cylinder into his back pocket, Ben picked up the datapad from the low table Hux had left it on, tapping through various icons and screens (some applications had more obvious uses than others, like he knew that TOWER was for communication, but he had no idea what ORDR was for). He swiped through the Kit application, noting the levels of hierarchy even there. The food, even at the highest levels, seemed basic, although there was an array of different and the promise of cooking in a real kitchensacred fire was not unappealing, especially considering the slop he ate while traveling. It wasn’t nutrient paste, after all.

The Reserve app seemed like a strange thing to leave on a pad for his use, he thought as he moved through the screens. What was he going to do scheduling a meeting or a reserving a time in one of the many training rooms available for the officers’ use? He continued to tab through the screens out of curiosity, as he sat on the table with his side aching and his stomach actually growling. He made a noise and tapped the “Sim” option and grinned to himself as he scrolled.

“Let’s see just how much access I have,” he muttered to himself as he tapped on one of the TIE sim time slots. He guessed that the TIE pilots were some of the only people with access to these rooms; they seemed elite from all the things he’d read about the Empire, and considering the verisimilitude the First Order was going for with everything, he guessed that hadn’t changed.

“Enter personal ID code,” he read aloud, then made an annoyed sound. “Well, I don’t have one of those.” He hit the reserve button experimentally, then raised his eyebrows when a confirmation came up with his name and not a code. “Well, okay. Guess I’d better…” He paused and stood up, pressing his elbow into his side as he did. “Go find it.”

On the bridge, Hux received a notification. B. Solo had just reserved a sim room. He smirked, dismissing it, and continued to direct the _Finalizer_ , satisfied to the extreme.

It took Ben the better part of twenty minutes to locate the simulation wing; it disconcerted him slightly that not a single person stopped him. The stormtroopers walked past him with their helmets facing forward; Ben imagined them all watching him out of the corners of their eyes, but he kept moving. Looking down at the pad again, he checked the room number.

“Yeah, okay...sixteen.” He pushed the biggest button on the panel by the door. “Open, damn you. Oh.” He pulled the code cylinder out of his back pocket and looked at it, then held it to the panel as he’d seen Hux do. The door slid open immediately. Ben swore happily under his breath as he walked in, stepping forward as the door closed and locked behind him. It wasn’t just a screen and a set of controls.

He couldn’t help smiling like an idiot as he climbed into the replica cockpit seat and pulled the panel closed. “It’s just like a kriffing TIE,” he murmured to himself, looking around. He’d studied Imperial TIE specs until he could have drawn them by hand; these matched almost exactly. He lightly touched the controls and took a deep breath. “Fuck.”

This was beyond incredible. He ran his hand up the starter panel before reaching up to fully engage the engines. He frowned at one of the lights that was blinking, then made a comprehending noise. This was a real sim pod; he wasn’t just going to watch the viewscreen spin. This seat and control panel would be like actually flying a TIE. He pulled the straps down over his shoulders and across his hips, firmly anchoring himself into the seat. He grabbed the helmet that was hanging on the back of the seat and set it down over his head. It was already plugged into the machine, with the extra data being fed from the machine to the panels by his eyes. Even the sounds were piped in, the distinctive whine of the engines. He could hear his own breathing echoing back to him and smiled.

His first few minutes of flying were largely uncontrolled, though he made it out of the hangar without incident (mostly). The TIE was fast, faster than he’d even imagined it would be, and the controls were hypersensitive and responded to the lightest touch. But Ben Solo was no inexperienced pilot, and had advantages that, as he’d said, were in his blood. So while his first run was shaky, his second run was much stronger, and by the third time, the sim leveled him up and let him try one of the missions. It was a pleasure to give chase and take out ships that, while some had speed, had no chance of outmaneuvering him as he got more and more comfortable with the controls.

His focus was absolute; the sim pod rolled him as the TIE turned to fit between rock formations on an unnamed planet. Distantly, he felt the encroachment of the sharp pain in his ribs as the restraining straps pressed the glass (oh yeah, that, his mind flickered briefly) deeper into his skin. He let it drive him forward, righting the starfighter and increasing his speed, even as he darted around another jagged range. When he finally had the last ship in his sights, his breath was roaring in his ears. He fired and watched the image of the ship exploding with satisfaction, the virtual debris flying into the rocks around it. The mission buzzer flashed above the screen and the pod settled back into position.

Two hours had gone by before he’d even realized it.

It took him longer to find his way back to the officers’ wing; he walked through the lounge area with almost dogged steps. It was less populated this time, and the looks he got were as curious as he’d imagined the hidden expressions of the stormtroopers had been. He pulled out the cylinder to let himself into the berth, then walked over to his own door.

On the command bridge, Hux knew that he couldn’t continue to lead for much longer. There came a point when driving himself too hard meant work slipped and productivity was impossible. It took two hours of pure determination to stay on the bridge and put out all the fires that demanded his attention. Most weren’t terribly important, but he knew that in order to maintain real control over a ship as massive as the _Finalizer_ , and more importantly, over the fleet and Starkiller Base’s construction, he needed to be this kind of committed.

Glancing at his screen he saw that Ben Solo had left the sim stations and was slightly surprised that it had taken him so long to wear himself out. The man really was something else.

Hux made his departure from the bridge, assigning Derr’wan acting command for the remainder of the rotation. There were exceptions, of course, and if there was something dire he would be alerted, but the general needed to rest.

He needed it.

Sighing, he made his way down to the officers’ level, pulling his datapad out and locating Ben. A few minutes ahead of him, by the look of it.

He went into the foyer and then turned to the right, knocking on the door to Ben’s berth.

Ben was sitting on the low table in the main room, having gotten half undressed before he’d decided he was tired and needed to sit down. That’s where he still was. And had been since then. Without really thinking, he took a deep breath and shouted, “Yeah, come in, I’m home.”  
Hux opened the door and frowned when he saw Ben shirtless in the main room. He glanced around, confused for a few seconds as he walked in.

“You...haven’t cleaned yourself up at all,” Hux said, the door sliding shut behind him. Ben’s side was still peppered with glass, bloody and bruised. He pulled off his cap, tucking it into his waistband and pulling his coat off. “What were you doing while I was on the bridge?”

Ben took a slow breath and shrugged, watching the general taking his coat off. Did he actually wear that thing all the time? He didn’t move, making no effort to stand.

“I took your advice, believe it or not. I grabbed one of those sim rooms and took a few flights out.” He pointed at Hux, winking. “Feel free to check my scores.”

“I will.” Hux laid his coat over the arm of the couch, frowning deeply. The man was frustrating to the extreme. He sighed through his nose, looking over the smuggler before going into the washroom. He pulled out the small medkit and went into the main room, holding it out to Ben and still frowning.

“You’re going to get an infection.”

Ben looked up, then reached to take the box. He was exhausted, and now with Hux here, he realized he had to make sure he didn’t show it. He sat up, straightening his back slowly.

“I was getting to it. I told you hours ago, it’s not a priority.” He set the box down on the table beside him. “How was your shift? Get lots of military stuff accomplished? Dress anyone down? Fire anyone off into space?”

“It should have been a priority,” Hux said quietly, taking a step back. He swallowed, frowning, knowing that Ben was acting like this to prove something. He picked up his coat, folding it over his arm as he went for the door. He really couldn’t afford to get in a battle of one-upsmanship with Ben Solo.

“I’ll give you the full tour early in the new rotation, eight hours from now. Get your rest.”

“Yeah...yeah. I’ll clean up and crawl to bed after a drink or something.” Ben looked up to watch Hux. “You look like a solid eight hours would do you some good too, sweet cheeks.”

Hux took a deep breath, looking over at Ben. He nodded once and his face looked relaxed. Not smiling, not kind. But not tense. It was about as close to a smile as he had ever let Ben see.

“I’ll be lucky to get six.” He opened the door and stepped out. The doors slid shut behind him, and he went over into his own berth, glad to hear the door lock behind him. Privacy, for the first time in days.

Ben stared at the door for another five minutes before he actually had the wherewithal to stand up and walk to the washroom, med kit in hand. The pain of removing each glass shard woke him up enough to make it into the shower, which while it stung each freshly opened wound was hot and cleansing and pounding. He ached all over; he cursorily dried himself off with the slightly scratchy towel before putting his trousers back on and heading back to the main room. He considered food, but didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of falling asleep on the galley floor.

The couch was close enough. He made it to sitting, then at some point tipped over and stayed that way. The lights in the room, eventually sensing no movement, went out.

Across the hall, Hux changed quickly into sleepwear, taking his time to fold his uniform and hang up his jacket and coat. Usually Hux stayed up to read reports, or a history, but he was...done. He was done. The young general collapsed into bed, his alarm setting as soon as he signed off his datapad.

* * *

Six hours passed fast, even for Hux. He was used to short sleep rotations, but still. Waking up was disgustingly hard, and he would have killed a man for another hour of rest. Instead, he dragged himself out of bed and quickly changed, going out of his berth and heading to the bridge first thing. He relieved Derr’wan, met up with Mitaka and continued to go through reports, directing the _Finalizer_ as they jumped into hyperspace.

He sent a message to Ben’s datapad, telling him that he’d be an hour late, and continued to work. He called a meeting of his officers to review, again, he hoped for a final time, what he had missed while in Ben’s company. Next on the schedule he had to deal with items that had fallen behind.

The officers left and Hux stayed in the meeting room a bit longer, reviewing the minutes and taking time to prioritize the rest of his day. It was impossible. There was no other word for it. He had to stop sleeping. Or clone himself. Those seemed like viable options.

Making a noise, Hux sent another message to Ben, warning of his arrival, then left the meeting room and headed to the officers’ level.

Ben Solo, meanwhile, was still asleep, face down on the couch in his berth. The datapad chimed each time it received a message, but the tinny sound wasn’t nearly loud enough to wake the smuggler.

When the general made his way from the bridge and into the Commander’s foyer, he was surprised that Ben wasn’t....ready? Waiting? He frowned, annoyed, and went over to Ben’s door, knocking on it. When he didn’t respond, Hux opened the door himself, stepping in and tucking the cylinder onto his jacket.

It was a surprise to open the door on a shirtless Ben Solo asleep on the couch. He blinked and he immediately wondered if this was a joke of some kind. He checked his datapad as he walked over, confirmed the time and took off his coat, putting it on the table.

“Get up,” Hux said loudly, kicking the couch in an attempt to get Ben awake. “I have to keep to a kriffing schedule, Solo. I don’t have time for this.”

Ben startled awake, sitting up as his eyes were coming open. He grabbed for the blaster usually on his hip, but the belt was obviously with the rest of his clothes in the washroom. Finding himself without a weapon, he threw his right hand up, though he waited that critical moment before flinging anyone across the room. He blinked at Hux several times, then slowly lowered his arm and yawned.

“Don’t have time for what?” he asked, rubbing both hands over his face.

Hux took a step back, making a disgusted noise.

“I already delayed our meeting an hour, you should have been up,” he said, glaring at Ben. “Get dressed.”

Ben stretched his arms over his head to loosen his shoulders, still watching the general. He sure was uptight on his own ship. Even more uptight than he’d been before. Which seemed impossible, but Ben made sure he was never surprised by other sentients he met in his travels. He stood up slowly, stretching his back.

“Delayed what an hour? What are we doing?” He walked back to the washroom to retrieve his dirty clothes, pulling his shirt on quickly and letting it settle, bunched about mid chest, while he buckled his holster on.

“That is the same shirt you were wearing yesterday,” Hux said through a tight jaw. “Please put on something clean.”

“This?” Ben looked up to see Hux’s exasperated expression, then back down at himself. He pulled the shirt down to cover his bandages, then worked at quickly tucking it in. “This is the only shirt I have with me, sweet cheeks.”

“It is not the only shirt in your berth,” Hux explained, as if to a toddler. “There is a whole wardrobe in your bedroom, if you had the decency to look.” As the general spoke, Ben finished tucking in the torn shirt, ignoring the fact that it was dirty with blood and grime.

“Nah, this is fine. I’m ready to go. Where are we going? You never actually answered before,” he said as he stepped over to Hux, patting his pocket to make sure he had the cylinder he’d gotten the cycle before.

Hux glared at Ben and shook his head. He made a disgusted noise as he looked down at his datapad.

“A tour. What did you want to see?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Um.” Would it be too predictable? He didn’t care. “How about the hangars?”

“The starfighter hangars?” Hux made a gesture with a spare hand, nodding. “Sure. Change your shirt.”

“To what?” Ben asked, gesturing around the room. “I don’t know what’s in here! This shirt is fine. Come on, you already said we’re late for your little tour.”

“Ben, for fuck’s sake, you smell.” Hux was frustrated and he didn’t even bother to hide it. “Just put on a clean shirt.”

“I showered,” Ben muttered, walking away into the bedroom sulkily. He slammed his hand against the control panel he imagined controlled a closet of some sort. There were several stacks of shirts and trousers, all identical and dark colored. Tossing his jacket onto the still perfectly made bed, he pulled the soiled shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor, then grabbed the first piece of clothing from the stack and put it on. “Does this make you happier?” he asked as he walked back to the main room, jacket over his arm.

Hux made a noise, looking up from his datapad. He nodded, tucking his pad under his arm and taking a step back. Frowning, he went into the galley and came out with a probar, holding it out to Ben.

“Eat.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, looking from the the standard issue protein pack to Hux’s face.

“Is that your version of nutrient paste? No thanks, I’ll eat later.” His stomach disagreed, growling at the very idea of food. “Whatever. Just give it to me.” He grabbed it from the general’s hand, then pulled it out of its plain silver foil wrapping.

Hux made a satisfied noise, glancing at his coat and then deciding to leave it there. He turned to the door, opening it and going through the foyer. “How do you think you did on your sims?”

Ben walked after Hux, chewing the bar thoughtfully. It was definitely not the best tasting thing he’d ever had, but it wasn’t actually revolting in taste or texture, and he was ravenous. He shrugged, not answering until he’d swallowed what was in his mouth.

“If I’d been less tired, I’d have stayed longer. You were right; those TIEs handle differently than anything I’ve flown before. That’s a ridiculously sensitive set of controls; they respond like thought.” He shook his head, not hiding how impressed he was by the technology.

“They handle like marbles in oil,” Hux agreed, walking with Ben through the officers’ level. “I’ll admit that I’m not a particularly exceptional pilot. I can make my way through a sim, but I wouldn’t put myself in a dogfight.” It was an underestimation of his abilities, but Ben didn’t need to know how far Hux pushed himself to excel.

Ben shrugged, pulling the wrapper down further to get to more of the bar. “I wouldn’t mind spending some more time in that sim pod. And I definitely wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some real controls.”

“By all means, you’re more than welcome to reserve as much time as you want.” Hux gestured, taking out his cylinder to activate the lift. “I’ll look into getting you time in a real fighter.”

Ben smiled to himself, leaning back against the wall as he finished his breakfast. He crumpled the wrapper and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He knew he was acting like a kid promised a toy, but it was impossible not to feel excited over the possibility of actually flying one of those ships.

“Yeah, I mean, if I have time while I’m here,” he replied in a too-casual tone.

“Of course,” Hux muttered, keeping his face neutral. “If you have time.”

Ben followed Hux out of the lift, walking a little more confidently. He still didn’t really know the layout of the ship; he’d intended to look over the various maps that were pre-loaded onto his datapad, but he’d fallen asleep before he could even manage to towel dry his hair. Still, he already felt more accustomed to seeing the brisk officers and the white armor around him, and his gait took on the more casual loping step that his long legs made easy and natural. Hux walked sharply and moved with an efficient speed; Ben took a small pleasure in watching the general check his pace slightly several times to not let the smuggler fall too far behind.

“Where we headed first?” he asked, putting his hands into his jacket pockets.

“We’ll head to the eastern starfighter hangar,” Hux said, pulling out his pad as they waited at another in-tram station. It didn’t escape his notice that Ben was practically jumping around as they walked through the ship. His plan was going along nicely. The young man was being plied with sim runs and the image of power the old Empire held so dear.

Hux was sure that when Supreme Leader Snoke spoke to Ben later that night, he would find the man yielding.

Ben glanced over at Hux, watching the man’s sharp profile as he looked over some sort of information on his datapad. There was so much here he had access to already, as though the general had already taken it as a foregone conclusion that Ben would be staying with them, that there was no danger of information leaking out and making its way to the First Order’s enemies. Maybe they intended to execute him publicly as a show of defiance against anyone in the Senate who did take a stand against them. He considered, almost idly as they waited for the tram, how many of them he could take out on his own if they tried to take him. He still had both blasters. By the time they got onto the tram, he’d already moved on.

“How many sim hours do pilots put in during a week? I’ve never actually talked to anyone...well, that’s a lie. I’ve talked to a few who used to pilot them back during the war. But I mean...they’re my parents’ age, you know? And they get all touchy about the fact that they were flying for the Imperial fleet so you can’t really get too much out of them.” Ben shrugged and ran both hands through his hair.

“In between twenty and thirty hours a week. They also have tactical training sessions, physical training, survival training, and rescue operations,” Hux explained, stepping onto the tram. “We take a lot of pride in our TIE fleets. We make sure that the pilots on the _Finalizer_ are the best the Order has.”

“So, since you never actually answered me earlier, how many Star Destroyers do you guys actually have? Is the _Finalizer_ the head of the fleet? Is it actually your’s, or are you filling in for somebody who’s on vacation?” Ben followed him into the tram, relaxing again into his comfortable leaning pose against one of the rails on the wall, arms folded over his chest. Carefully.

Hux made an annoyed noise, sending a message across the ship. He shook his head and looked up at Ben, glaring slightly. Of course Ben would rely on underhanded jibes to draw out information he wanted. Fine, what use would names be to him anyway?

“This is my ship. We are the paramount of the south and north western quadrants. The Faultless and the Indomitable are the paramounts of the southeast and northeast quadrants. They are not the only Destroyers in their fleet.”

“Huh.” Ben turned his head to watch the ship interior fly by them as they traveled. “I will say, your’s has the best name. Good job with that.” It was a little ridiculous to think of how many Falcons would fit into this gigantic ship. He rubbed his upper arm thoughtfully, eyes still away from Hux.

Glancing over, Hux frowned as he tried to read Ben’s expression. He shook his head and looked down at his datapad again. “Is something wrong?”

Ben shook himself out of his thoughts, which had strayed to how much information he could take back to his mother after being here. Even if he left right now, with just what he’d seen and experienced thus far, he could change everything. He took a deep breath and smirked at the general.

“Wrong? Nothing. I’m still waking up after being so rudely jarred out of my beauty sleep.” He stretched his leg out to kick his foot against Hux’s.

Hux frowned, looking down at his boot and then back up at Ben, annoyed.

“Don’t do that.”

“What? This?” It was too easy to kick Hux again; this time the dirty sole of his boot left a smudge on the pristine surface of the general’s toe, which had obviously been shined very recently.

Hux’s anger flared up, and he took a step away from Ben and set his jaw. He didn’t feel the need to dignify Ben’s behavior with a response and instead opened up his pad, sending another quick missive. Ben snorted and brought his hand up to half cover his smile, then he turned to watch their journey as the tram began to slow.

“Is this it?” he asked, not expecting Hux’s annoyance to last. It was just in good fun, after all.

The general didn’t bother responding, glancing up from his datapad for a second before exiting the tram and walking through the _Finalizer_ to the far side of the ship. He briefly imagined what it would be like to demand Ben clean his boot, holding his dark hair as the smuggler licked the leather to a bright shine.

Hux would admit that it was a briefly satisfying diversion, and his annoyance faded. Ben, obviously, had no idea what the general was thinking, so he just walked after him at his more relaxed pace, taking the time to look around. The ship was a seemingly unending series of tall corridors. He looked over each group of stormtroopers that they passed, but the exceptional Captain Phasma wasn’t around. Or at least, no one else in that chrome armor. For all he knew, that was a signal of rank.

Hux glanced over at Ben, eyebrows up. He watched his gaze for a few seconds before speaking.

“Would you like to try on their armor too?”

Ben looked over, surprised by the question. After a second, he laughed and shook his head.

“I’m not going to play dress up either, general.” He looked forward as they walked through another set of doors, not expecting the huge expanse of the hangar to open up in front of them when they did. The TIE starfighters were black and glossy against the grey walls, arranged in their unique rotational docks for cleaner storage. There were a few pilots standing on the far side of the hangar where one of the ships was suspended for maintenance or repairs, Ben couldn’t tell which. The side panels were huge at this close range, definitely larger than the Imperial ones he’d seen before. He nodded to himself as they walked further into the area, then smiled over at Hux.

“These...these are nice.” The small phrase held a huge, almost adoring compliment.

Hux watched the other man, tucking his datapad away as Ben looked over the neat rows, the perfectly functional order of it all. When Ben turned around, Hux’s eyebrows shot up and he had the decency to look surprised as Ben spoke. The smile he was faced with was bright, natural, completely inviting. It put him off-guard in a very strange way.

He nodded once, not trusting himself to say anything just yet. He glanced around the wing and took a few steps forward, standing next to Ben.

“We can observe the bay from the bridge, if you’d like.”

Ben was still looking over everything, trying to hear what the mechanics were shouting to one another. He nodded without looking at the general. “Yeah, okay.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still smiling. This was what seeing the past was supposed to be like. Not broken machines or flickering holovids with their tinny voices, the uncertain stories of the old who remembered but didn’t always tell you what they really remembered. This was the past but bigger, fully lit, with a sense of shine and purpose that you could inhale and hold in your lungs. This wasn’t the dirty part of his family’s history. This was what he’d heard, that once, when he was close to sleeping at the temple, when he—

He cut off his own memory and looked over at Hux again. “Can we get there from here?”

Hux was frowning, observing Ben carefully. The officer was trying to figure out what precisely that expression held when Ben looked over the TIE fighters. Stepping back, Hux pointed at the small bridge behind them. “This way,” he said, turning away and heading back to the far end of the wing, scanning his cylinder for the lift that would take them up the single level to the hangar’s small 5-man command bridge.

Ben followed Hux, though he kept stealing glances back at the hangar. As they entered the lift, he resolved to be a little more reserved about the whole thing. He was acting like a child.

“So, you said you’ve flown one? But you’re not really into flying. I know what are you into,” he said when they were facing one another.

Hux shrugged, glancing up at Ben, eyebrows up.

“Not regularly. I see the draw, but my talents lie elsewhere.” He shifted to put his hands behind his back, holding his datapad as he looked over the bay. “I can effectively pilot any ship in the Order fleet to some degree. My TIE skills are rusty, but manageable.”

“But you’d rather be shooting at something,” Ben said as though finishing a sentence for him. He laughed and shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve seen you with a blaster. You’re damned effective; you don’t waste shots.”

Hux made a noise, almost smirking. “Arkanis required mandatory infantry specializations, even for officers.”

“How many hours a week do you spend working on those perfect shots?” Ben could see the pride in Hux’s pale eyes.

“Not as many as I would like. Four to eight hours, on a good week.” Hux sighed, pulling up his schedule and looking over the next week. He put in a ninety minute reservation at the shooting range, setting up reminders as well. Ben watched his hands, curious as always about what he was reading and what he was entering on the pad that he constantly carried around with him.

“I miss that kind of training.” Ben shrugged. “I mean, I keep up on some of mine, the forms and the meditation...sometimes. But the actual weapon training. I miss that.” He laughed and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Obviously, not blaster training. I mean, a gun’s great, but it’s not my first choice.”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about lightsaber training?” Hux asked mildly, eyebrows up.

Ben nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets again as the lift stopped. He stepped off first, even though he had no idea where he was going.

“Yeah...it’s different. More and less intuitive.” He glanced over as though to make sure the general was following him this time.

Hux let Ben get those few steps ahead of him before walking forward and taking the lead again. As he entered the bridge, the men stood up in unison and saluted, standing at attention for a few seconds before Hux dismissed them with a nod.

“At ease,” he said quietly, going over to Corporal Bant. She was a smaller woman with her dark hair in a severe bun, not a stitch of her out of place. He saluted her smartly and she nodded, taking a step away from the station’s control panels to invite Hux to stand at her place.

“Good to see you down in east wing, General,” she said, her tone casual. She glanced at Ben and smiled a little, inclining her head. “Captain Solo.”

Hux made a noise, putting his datapad on the station dock and glancing back at Ben for just a second before examining the station, pulling up a schedule on the main screen.

“He prefers Ben.”

Ben smiled over at the corporal, that slightly sly smile he’d perfected for certain situations.

“Captain Solo’s not bad either. The general isn’t going to introduce us, I guess. You are…?” Ben was also trying to figure out how everyone knew him. Had there been a shipwide bulletin with his face and name, just in case?

“Corporal Jahnavi Bant, Captain,” she said, still smiling at Ben. “I'm the eastern wing officer.” She stepped forward, holding her hand out for Ben. Ben took her hand to shake, immediately bowing slightly over it to not-quite touch his lips to her knuckles. His uncle Lando would be proud.

“It’s more than a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, slow to release her hand and step back.

Hux was too focused on the scene to notice Bant’s slight blush and wide grin. He made a noise and the corporal schooled her face quickly, going to Hux’s side.

“Sir?”

“There's a tac-run scheduled in half an hour, will there be a viewing ship alongside?”

Bant nodded, pulling up her own release schedule. “Lieutenant Visenya is administering the run from onboard the _Singe_.”

“Tell him we will be joining him.” Hux settled back, looking over at Ben. “How do you feel about watching a technical?”

Ben met the general’s eyes and nodded, smiling a little more.

“Yeah, that would be fine. Will the corporal be joining us?” He looked over at her and winked, just barely, quickly enough that it was almost nothing.

Bants eyes widened slightly and she glanced at Hux, who shook his head as he stepped away from the console.

“The corporal will attend her station.”

“Well, maybe next time, right?” Ben looked back to Hux again. “When do we head out?”

Hux turned away from the station, picking up his pad as he headed for the lift. “The _Singe_ is being prepared in the starboard bay. Visenya is already there.”

As he passed, Bant smiled again at Ben from her post in front of the console. She saluted him before turning back to the screens. “Have a nice time, captain.”

Ben turned his head to keep his eyes on her’s for that extra minute as he followed after Hux, promising _oh-so-much-more_ if only they’d had the time.

“Will do, ma’am.” If he could have a reputation even within the First Order, that was exactly what he wanted. He smiled crookedly at her, then jogged a step to catch up with his host. “She seems like a gem. You know her well? Like...outside of the ‘no sir’s and ‘yes-sir’s?”

“Corporal Bant is an excellent wing officer. She is capable and safety is her utmost concern,” Hux said, walking to the lift and opening the door for Ben, following him in. “I’m not sure what else you mean.”

“Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to for a second.” Ben found he was getting good at lounging in the lifts and trams the ship seemed to be mostly made up of. Hux frowned, but stood still in the lift, hands holding onto the datapad behind his back. The smuggler looked up, then pulled the crumpled wrapper out of his pocket and smoothed it out flat to look at it while they traveled upward. “Where do you go to train on the ship? Is there a range?”

“There are a few. I managed to schedule an hour and a half on the long range for tomorrow morning.” He stepped out, walking through the upper level, around the starfighter wing to the docking bay for the _Singe_. “There are a few stations. If you’d like to tag along, you’re welcome to do so.”

Ben nodded as he walked beside Hux, glancing around at the other people who were all moving along as if they had very important places to be on a very tight schedule. From what he knew of the man next to him, he didn’t doubt that they all believed that with their whole souls.

“Yeah, I was going to ask if you needed private time for all of that or if you wanted company. Same for dinner.” The smuggler smiled a little. “If you do that. Have dinner with other people. Corporals, captains, whoever.”

Hux nodded, gesturing. “If you’d like to eat together, I can arrange that.” He frowned a little as he walked, glancing over at Ben. “Would you prefer to cook for yourself?”

“For us, you mean.” Ben’s smiled was short but genuine. “What sort of real food options are there? Am I going to be chopping up those bars into something that resembles a meal?”

“You can order fresh ingredients up to your room.” Hux opened another set of doors, going into the hangar. The _Singe_ , a long, but compact shuttle, where Visenya was directing a small set of five TIE pilot hopefuls on how to observe the technical. The troopers were in physical training uniforms, with no armor or space suiting on. As Hux approached the Lieutenant saluted and the pilots stood at attention behind him.

“Sir! We’re very excited to have you on board-”

“Yes, of course.” Hux made a dismissive gesture, cutting off the lieutenant. “Ben will be coming with us, he’s curious about our pilot training regimen.”

“Captain Solo, you’re more than welcome to ask me or any of the recruits any questions you may have.”

Hux looked from the lieutenant to Ben, eyebrows up. Ben stepped around Hux to offer his hand to the other man, smiling.

“It’s good to know you, lieutenant.” He gave the man the same smile he’d given Bant, the same _if-only-we-were-alone_ eyes. “I really appreciate that. I do have a question, as a matter of fact. I mean, it’s not directly related to the ships, but I feel like I have to ask it all the same.”

“We’re here to answer any questions you have.” Visenya said, sending the recruits onto the ship with a gesture. Hux stood behind Ben, opening up his pad and frowning as he went through a couple reports.

“How come every single person on this giant ship knows my name before I even introduce myself?” Ben asked with a smile, not looking back. He figured he’d feel Hux’s reaction.

Behind him, Hux rolled his eyes. Visenya made a noise. “There was a notice sent out, of course. As soon as the general returned...and...frankly, captain, you’re the only one out of uniform and your hair is not at regulation length.”

“Regulation length?” Ben laughed easily, running his hands through his hair and turning to look at Hux. “So I don’t pass muster, huh?” He looked back to Visenya. “So do you fly these things yourself?”

Hux glanced up at Ben’s back and sighed as Visenya nodded. “Course I do. Can’t let our pilots think they know everything. They need someone to give them a swift kick to the ass at least twice a month or they get cocky.”

The general didn’t exactly approve of the mouth on the lieutenant, but the man had turned down multiple promotions to train TIE pilots, and Hux knew that he produced results. There was a reason the _Finalizer_ was in charge of two quadrants. Ben felt more at ease with someone who talked so naturally, and he grinned and looked over the recruits who’d neatly arranged themselves in seats.

“I’m trying to convince the general to give me a shot at it. I think he’s afraid I’ll take it out of the hangar and then immediately crash it into the side of his ship.” He chuckled to himself and leaned in slightly. “But I look trustworthy, don’t I?”

“Sir, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we don’t let anyone touch the inside of a TIE until they log at least one hundred and twenty hours on the sim pods. You need to pass a written exam, have an individualized review of your top five sim flights, and meet the required fitness standards. Though I doubt you’ll have a problem with that part.”

“Lieutenant,” Hux warned, raising his voice slightly without looking up from his report.

“General, anyone who makes a living smuggling doesn’t laze around,” Visenya said quickly, smiling at Ben. “If you can head in, captain, we’re just about to start the tech.”

“Sure thing, sorry for holding you up, lieutenant,” Ben replied, taking that extra second to wink at him before he walked to take one of the empty seats. He’d seen the same thing every time he headed to Hosnian Prime to visit after a smuggling run; if he dressed appropriately for dinner with his mother and behaved as the son of a Senator Princess should, he did not get quite the same response that he got if he went to dinner in his flight jacket with his gloves tucked into his heavy belt. He patted the seat next to his, watching Hux. “Come on over, general.”

Hux followed them into the _Singe_ , sitting next to Ben when the young smuggler gestured him closer. He sighed, sitting down and strapping himself in. Shifting slightly to turn towards Ben, he kept his eyes down on the datapad as he spoke.

“Acting cute won’t get you far on board my ship, _Captain_.”

“Oh, relax. You should know by now, it ain’t acting. _Arrik_.” Ben grinned and leaned back comfortably. “Make sure you dress up for dinner.”

“Call me Arrik again, and I’ll put you in the blasting range and see how long your tricks will save you,” Hux said, still not looking up from his pad. Ben put his elbow on the armrest between them and leaned closer to the other man.

“See, that sounds like a good time. If I had my lightsaber, we could really make a good training session of it,” he said, pitching his voice low and quiet to make sure Hux was the only one who heard him.

“I wouldn’t want to harm my ship,” Hux said, still going through some reports from distant sections of the quadrants. “You, however, I can suffer to see hurt.”

Ben laughed at the joke. At least, he assumed it was a joke. He recognized that it was stupid to assume, but he laughed anyway. He chose to take it as a joke.

“Then I guess you’d have to get better at aiming, huh?”

“My aim is perfect,” Hux said. As they spoke the shuttle left the bay, followed by a small compliment of twelve TIEs. Ben turned his head to look behind them at the distinctive scream of the starfighter engines, then followed the sound forward to watch them through the front viewscreens.

“Nobody’s aim is perfect,” he murmured, eyes locked on the TIEs as they started their maneuvers.

“We’ll see.” Hux shifted as Visenya came over to them, holding onto one of the shuttles bars. The entire complement continued away from the _Finalizer_ , and Visenya smiled down at Ben and Hux.

“We’re doing evens versus odds. The fighters have all been re-equipped with ion-based stun cannons which will only momentarily disable the TIEs. They’ll get a chance to limp home.” Visenya laughed, standing up straight and looking out. “Would you like to start the tech, general?”

Hux made a noise, gesturing. “Let Ben do it; he’ll be thrilled.”

Ben heard the obvious sneer in Hux’s voice, and it was starting to get to him a bit. He determined to let it roll off his back, looking up at Visenya and smiling.

“Sure, how do I perform the honor, lieutenant?”

Visenya was smiling as he went over to the wide glass viewport. He tapped the pad and a grid came up over part of the glass, still allowing a good view of the TIEs as they made their way to opposite ends of the battlefield, far enough away that they could still all been seen on the view.

He took a step back, pointing to the pad. “That will give them a one minute countdown.” Ben unbuckled himself and hopped up, walking over to stand by Visenya. He wanted to see this so badly. He wanted it to be fast and sleek and brutally efficient, even in play, even in training.

“Look alive, troopers,” the lieutenant said, raising his voice slightly. “Watch how they prepare for engagement. Keep in mind that they only have one minute to analyze the other team, come up with a plan, and get in formation. YV-2839 is lead for odds, YM-6766 is lead for evens.”

Ben nodded as though the officer was giving this information for his benefit, rather than the group watching closely behind him.

As Visenya spoke the two TIEs lit up on the screen, in bright blue and red, and the teams were lit up on the viewport as well, outlined in faded tones. The lieutenant nodded back at Ben.

“On your mark, Solo.”

“Here we go.” Ben tapped the blinking indicator on the screen, then watched the countdown as the numbers flashed on the screen. Rather than returning to his seat, he stayed by the window as though the few feet would make a difference.

Hux glanced up, looking Ben over. It was obvious that the man was excited to see this sort of display, but for him it was an activity that happened every day on the _Finalizer_. He had seen his share of practice techs and real fights, and this sort of thing was just another scheduled event.

Two of the five prospective pilots leaned closer together, and one of them almost giggled. Hux looked over, glaring, but the timer reached zero and the dogfight started. Ben’s attention was exclusively on the ships in front of them; with his new experience in the sim pod, he had a vivid appreciation for the way the pilots handled the touchy controls. One of his hands was clenched by his side as he watched and his elbow jerked every time there was a near collision before the pilots expertly pulled away from one another, knowing their limitations.

Hux had seen this sort of thing dozens of times, but he was more interested in Ben’s reactions to the tech than what was actually happening outside the shuttle. The smuggler wasn’t aware of anyone else in the shuttle as he watched. As he analyzed the dogfight, he stole looks at the reported information that was scrolling on the screen. He didn’t know what all the numbers meant, but he could piece together many of them, speed, shots fired, targets hit.

Throughout the tech, Visenya instructed his recruits on the various techniques and strategies the TIE pilots were employing, the way that the teams split up or came together to try to gain the upper hand. Ben let himself be drawn in completely, and by the end of the exercise, his hands were clenched as though they were around controllers and the color was high in his cheeks. He wanted to fly one of those starfighters. Before he left, he promised himself he would.

The tech ended suddenly, with two of the red-evens overcoming the remaining three odds in an incredible display of skill, twisting out of the way, the rolling of the TIEs not impeding their aim as they rolled to get behind the odds. The two TIEs came so close to the odds that the small sparks were visible even from the _Singe_. Ben held the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he watched, dark eyes intense as they reflected the mock battle in the distance. When the screen flashed the end of the the tech with the final analytics, he stepped back as though moving away from something he’d been involved in.

Hux’s gaze didn’t leave Ben’s back; just as the smuggler was analyzing the starfighters, Hux was taking note of his expressions, his shoulders, his arms and the set of his back. He was taking Ben apart, finding his pride, his ambition, the facets of Ben Solo that wanted more and more and more.

“Even getting behind a TIE is no guarantee of an upper hand. The odds failed because they continued to split up and come together, making themselves too predictable. The evens saw their strategy and took advantage when the odds tried to re-converge for another attack,” Visenya explained as the recruits took notes on their pads, small holo-vids already popping up of the final moments of the tech.Visenya looked back at Ben, smirking slightly. “Did you learn something, captain?”

Ben looked over at Visenya, catching his eye with an expression that was not the flirting of earlier. He nodded slowly.

“All of them depend too heavily on the team. Primarily for defense,” he said finally. “One of the benefits of having that sort of evasive responsiveness is to know you’re on your own.”

Visenya shrugged. “That was the point of this technical. There are others where the TIEs only rely on themselves, but since we generally don’t employ individual starfighters on any mission, we don’t consider it a priority. Working in teams is more difficult, and requires a higher level of awareness and consideration.”

Ben made a noise and looked back to the window and the projected information. “Consideration.”

“Have you been to the sims yet?” Visenya asked, smiling slightly. The stunned TIEs had recovered their controls, and the pilots were all heading back to the _Finalizer._ The shuttle turned as well, following the last starfighter.

“Mm, yeah.” Ben looked over at the lieutenant and nodded, then smiled ruefully. “I was sort of tired and bleeding, so it wasn’t maybe the best run.” He had no basis of comparison, though he knew his numbers wouldn’t look like it had been his first time.

Visenya nodded, looking over at Hux. The general tore his eyes from the set of Ben’s shoulders to meet the lieutenant’s gaze.

“If you’re willing to make an exception, general, I’d say we can get Captain Solo into a TIE in a few days if he puts in the hours.”

Hux made a noise, shrugging once, glancing over at Ben. Ben raised his eyebrows at Hux, smiling slowly.

“How many hours would you recommend, general?” he asked sweetly, hands clasped behind his back. “I mean, I’m definitely willing to put in the time.”

Hux made a noise, holding Ben’s gaze.

“I’ll think about it.”

Ben rolled his eyes, walking back to flop into the seat next to Hux. He stretched his long legs in front of him comfortably.

“You sound like my mother,” he commented, then grinned at the lieutenant.

Hux snorted, shaking his head and looking back down at his datapad. He didn’t answer and Visenya turned back to the recruits, who were standing in front of the port, trying to figure out if the odds could have won if they had continued to stay apart. Ben watched Hux for a moment before boredom won out and he reached over to grab the pad out of his hands.

“Let’s see what you have going on here,” he said, looking down over the report the general had been giving his attention to. “What sort of programs does the general get? Can I order food from here? And what does ORDR do?”

Hux made a noise, taking a deep breath and allowing Ben to see a map of the quadrant for a few seconds before closing it down. At the mention of the app, one of the pilots glanced over at the two of them before looking back to the holovids replaying the tech.

“The general has classified information on his pad,” Hux muttered, turning it off. Ben sighed and tossed the pad back into Hux’s lap.

“No fun at all, are you?”

“Although I try my best to prevent it at all costs you looked like you were having a good time,” Hux muttered, taking the pad back but leaving the screen black.

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t having a good time. I’ve enjoyed my day, though food would make it better. I meant you. You don’t let yourself have any fun.” Ben slumped further in his seat as though he intended to nap on the way back.

Hux made a noise, frowning. He shook his head. “I’m not sure I have time.”

“Should I set a place for the holopad at dinner?” Ben was smiling as he asked.

“I will have it, yes.” Hux frowned, looking up at Ben. He was frowning, as if he were confused by the other man. He shook his head and sat back in the shuttle’s seat, watching as the ship flew slowly into the Destroyer and into its designated bay. Ben snorted and shook his head, unsurprised by the other man’s answer. He closed his eyes for the last bit of the trip, actually falling asleep in the short space of time. Power naps were a specialty of his.

The _Singe_ docked and Visenya took the recruits out of the ship. Hux stood and frowned at Ben, baffled by how much sleep one man could get in such a short amount of time.

“Wake up,” Hux demanded for the second time that day, nudging Ben’s boot with his own. The smuggler opened his eyes and smiled drowsily for a second, then he took a deep breath and sat up.

“Are we there?” He looked around the empty ship and laughed. “Guess so. It was nice of you to stick around for me. Or were you concerned I’d just hop a TIE on my own?”

“Fortunately, you don’t have access,” Hux said, smirking slightly. “Not until I give it to you.” He took a step back, gesturing to the ramp. “If you don’t mind.”

Ben stood up and ran his hands through his hair as though making himself presentable to the rest of the ship. Instead, the gesture caused the curls to flip the wrong way, giving him the appearance of black horns around his head. He walked ahead of Hux to the ramp, putting his hands back into his jacket pockets as he walked.

“I’m guessing you have to head back to the bridge now. Or even if you don’t have to, I bet you want to. You like knowing everything that’s going on. Even if it’s beneath you.” Ben smiled, then looked back at Hux. “Like counting up armament crates on a shipment.”

Hux made a noise as they left. Visenya already instructing the recruits on what kind of sims to run next. The lieutenant nodded at Ben, and two of the recruits looked back, one of them smiling at the smuggler and another glancing quickly at Hux before looking forward, his shoulders hunching forward. Ben watched all of it, the strange dynamics of a ship that was as large as a space port, the attractions and rivalries that were bound to creep up. He made sure to return smiles aimed at him, and wondered to himself about the looks cast at Hux.

“The ship is going on just fine. I have analytics from the quadrants to review,” Hux said, walking past the recruits with his eyes forward. He went into the hall, hands behind his back again. Ben gave a last wave as he walked past the row and an extra smile and wink for their instructor.

“Thanks for the show, lieutenant. I hope you wouldn’t mind if I bugged you later on for some more TIE information. Specs, flying, all that?” He knew he was making Hux wait for him, and that felt good.

Visenya nodded, smiling a little. The recruits turned in their seats to watch Ben, two of them smiling coyly and whispering very softly.

“Of course Captain Solo. I’ll grant you access to the training schedules and pilot instruction, if you’re that interested.”

Ben glanced over at the two recruits who had their eyes on him, winking before turning his attention back to Visenya.

“Well, I’m not here for that long, but I’d like to get out there and try one for myself.” He held his hand out to the other man. “I’ll look you up.”

The lieutenant nodded, walking around the recruits to shake Ben’s hand. “Of course, captain. Enjoy your stay.”

Ben tossed him a quick salute as he walked into the hallway to join Hux. He elbowed him lightly, then headed back in the direction of the lift. He’d learn the layout of this ship yet.

“I can probably find my way back, or bother enough troopers to get there eventually, if you’ve got places to be,” he said casually, as though they were friends spending a day together.

Hux made a noise as he followed Ben, looking up briefly from his pad. “Before we parted I wanted you to know that I have scheduled a meeting with the Supreme Leader. Would you like to have dinner before or after?” Hux had pulled up his schedule, looking over his day. Ben shrugged and glanced over at him.

“We can do it before, get all that work out of the way. Maybe then you’ll be able to relax and actually enjoy the food. Which...well, I can’t promise how good it’ll be. Depends on what I have to work with. I poked through the Kit application...I think I’ve got that sorted out.” Ben was curious about this ‘Supreme Leader,’ but he was in no way nervous. It was likely going to be some crusty old withered Imperial holdover, sending young men and women to play soldier ‘like in the good old days.’ He knew them from the winning side. The First Order had to have them as well.

Hux made a noise, nodding.

“I would be surprised if you found our selection lacking,” Hux said, looking up at Ben after rearranging a few items on his schedule to accommodate dinner after the holo-call with Snoke. They got on the lift, and Hux sent them downwards, towards the in-tram. “Is there anything else you need from me? Or do you need to go lie down for a few hours?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll explore for awhile, if that’s okay. Then I’ll order food, then we’ll talk to your supreme buddy, then we’ll eat.” Ben pulled his hands out of his pockets and laced them at the back of his neck as he waited for the lift to stop at their required level.

“You should grab your datapad.” Hux stepped out of the lift, going through the halls to the in-tram station. “There aren’t directions posted on the walls.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to just go into your mind and get directions that way?” Ben teased as they walked.

Hux felt anger flaring up, felt that intense need to know more and push Ben away at the same time. He swallowed and glanced over at Ben before stopping at the station. “You are not.”

“Does that apply to everybody, or just you?”

“I can only speak for myself,” Hux said absently, hands behind his back, holding his pad. “However I will ask that you not compel any troopers to harm themselves or commandeer a TIE.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Ben said, frowning suddenly. “To hurt themselves? Why the hells would I? That’s...there are rules.”

Hux made a noise, glancing over at Ben with real curiosity. “And who would be able to enforce consequences?” he asked, looking confused. “Is it a moral restriction or some sort of ancient coda that will strike you down should you stray?”

“Well, not...I mean, there’s not a person but a…” Ben met Hux’s eyes. He knew the other man believed in the Force (it would be impossible for him not to, at this point), but what could he think of things like the Jedi Order, the Sith, the things he’d been raised on? Even in the Senate there were people who spoke disparagingly of all of it as though it was ancient history, with his Force sensitive mother sitting right there. He’d heard it himself, and even Leia’s hand on his arm hadn’t always managed to stop him from giving a little demonstration. And then it was the fear and disgust in their eyes that made him leave, while these small-minded idiots had the gall to mutter about superstition and ‘that damned Organa boy.’

Hux’s eyes narrowed, seeing Ben struggle to give a straight answer, to have the conviction he craved and wanted. It seemed so obvious, and it was made more obvious every minute that Ben wanted purpose, that he craved direction. He turned slightly, taking up more of Ben’s line of vision.

“But what, Ben?”

The smuggler looked angry when he met Hux’s eyes, but it wasn’t the general he was angry with.

“Whenever...someone uses the Force, there are ways to use it that are…” He paused again to choose his words. “To help or to harm. To help yourself or to help others. We talk about the correct choices that let you walk the light path. That’s the Jedi code, and it’s what I learned. It helps you make decisions when you have choices. It’s…” He could say it here, who else would know?

“Limiting.” He licked his lips. “Not bad, just...there are things it doesn’t let you explore.” That was Hux’s word there. “The other side is the one we’re steered away from, because it’s the easy way. Well. They say it’s the easy path, to be angry, or to be passionate about something. That those are the impulses to control, because if you give into them with the Force, that’s the dark side.” He was silent for a minute as he thought of some of the things he’d done since meeting Hux. Some of them he could never confess to his uncle. “Some say it’s the stronger path though.”

Hearing Ben speak with such obvious confusion only fueled Hux to push him further, to press harder. He nodded once, not looking away from Ben.

“Then maybe it’s the path of stronger men. To control all that power, it would consume a weaker person.” He spoke quietly, intensely. “Nobody does anything without expecting something. Not even Jedi.”

“My grandfather…” Ben swallowed before continuing. “He lost...everything when he…” He shook his head. “The split between the two destroyed everything.”

“You are not your grandfather,” Hux said almost angrily. He set his jaw, taking a step back as the tram came through. He was angry and intensely curious, he wanted to know more, he wanted to pull Ben apart at the seams. Swallowing, Hux put his hand on Ben’s back, pushing him forward. The unfinished phrase hung in the air.

_You’re better._

He dropped his hand as they got on the tram, taking a step back and holding onto one of the bars.

“I have a meeting, but I will drop you off at the officers’ level. You can get the datapad and wander as you’d like.”

Ben felt like he had to catch his breath, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He didn’t know why he hadn’t pulled away from Hux’s hand, why he didn’t argue with him now. Instead, he nodded mutely.

Hux didn’t say anything after that, watching his ship pass by. He took a deep breath, glancing over at Ben, watching him carefully.

“We can discuss this further if you’d like.”

Ben kept his eyes forward, his expression not nearly as relaxed as his studied posture.

“What? All you’re going to know about it is what you’ve studied about Sheev Palpatine.” He was careful not to look at Hux. He’d never known a man with eyes that pale that seemed that depthless. “Who...was a strong man. But devious.” He swallowed and shook his head. “We can’t discuss this right now.”

Hux shrugged, looking out the windows again. “As you’d like.” He wasn’t angry or upset; he just knew that this was another move on the board, another angle to consider. Ben Solo who didn’t understand the Force he had, the power he held. Ben Solo who wanted limits, but didn’t want to be limited. He knew and didn’t know, and Hux was a man who wanted to know everything, who wanted to understand every part of the power contained in the man next to him.

Ben didn’t say anything else as the tram took them back toward the officer’s area. He heard Hux’s voice over and over, his tone almost holding the same anger it had back at Madame Zingot’s. _You are not your grandfather_. That was always the question, wasn’t it? And Ben’s answer was also a question. Why the hells not?

The tram stopped and Hux gestured to Ben as he walked off. He was never sure when Ben would try to listen to his thoughts, and he had to assume that the other man could do so at any time. It was frustrating not to know what powers the other man had at his disposal. He took a deep breath as he walked, going through the ship towards the lift.

“I think that the only parts of the ship you won’t be allowed into is the engine rooms,” Hux explained, his tone clipped and factual. “I will meet you at your berth in six hours. Will you be ready?”

“Yeah...should I meet you somewhere?” He fought to bring up the smile Hux had to expect by now. “Should I change my shirt?”

Hux frowned slightly, looking over at Ben. He was confused; it seemed like Ben was struggling to school his expression.

“If you’d like,” Hux said, scanning his cylinder at the lift. “I’m expected elsewhere. You know which floor?”

Ben gestured in the vague direction he knew he needed to go to get back to his berth.

“Yeah, I can take care of myself. You go to your meeting, general. I bet it’s awful important.” His smile came a little more naturally that time.

Narrowing his eyes, Hux took a step back and nodded. His gaze was piercing and calculating. “Six hours, then.”

Ben gave Hux the same salute he’d given the TIE instructor, then added the wink he’d graced several of the recruits with.

“Come get me when you want me.” Laughing to himself, Ben turned away and started off down the hallway, nodding to an officer who turned to look at him when he started whistling a rude Huttese ditty.

Hux rolled his eyes, turning away and pulling his datapad in front of him. Ben was primed. He was a fire, and he just needed a push to ignite. Hux narrowed his eyes at the datapad, heading towards another level. He wanted to be that push.

Ben spent the hours allotted him walking through the ship, feeling invisible as the soldiers and officers moved around him. He logged a few more hours in the TIE sim pod, finding it easy to lose himself in the maneuvers; while Visenya’s observations were in his head, Hux’s voice wasn’t.

_You are not your grandfather._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: if you've made it this far you're fine.

Ben headed back to his berth and showered, turning the water to cold to try to re-focus himself. He stepped out ten minutes later, shivering, and changed into clothes he found in the compartment in his bedroom. There was too much in his head, and he didn’t know where some of it had come from. Most of it had been banished for years. Trying to forget it again (that night, maybe closer to dawn, when he’d been working at sleep like it was a task given to him by his uncle, when he heard it, that impossible voice, just that one time—), he slowly went through his forms, in order.

He stood for a moment in the living area, then cleared the space of furniture and took a deep breath before settling down, hands open, palms down, and concentrated on his stance. The first few movements were easy; he could do them in his sleep. The higher he went, the more concentration they required. When he got to ten, he felt the missing lightsaber in his hand keenly. It wasn’t the same to move without it, to turn without that constantly opposing force humming through your wrist.

When he was finally finished, he showered again, feeling more like himself when he re-dressed and sat down on the table with his assigned pad in hand. While he waited for Hux, he lazily browsed through Kit and ordered up all the foods he thought he might want. The general hadn’t been wrong; the selection was not limited.

Meanwhile, for Hux the past six hours were full of analytics, reports, orders and strategy. They were planning a trip to Starkiller Base, and he wanted to make time to visit Arkanis, but the two were on opposite ends of the kriffing galaxy. He had begun a plan around the Western Reaches, where the resistance was strong, and instead directed a route through the Mid Rim, where the _Finalizer_ would be respected. The shadow of the Empire was still dark, still reached into those parts of the galaxy.

Phasma had a few requests as well, time for real-land technicals for troopers, more than just the parade march through the _Finalizer_. Landing and bringing out their forces was always hard to manage, but it had been nearly five months and Hux knew that she wouldn’t put in a request unless she knew it was necessary.

Walking through the officer’s level, Hux decided that there was nothing to be done, that he needed to focus on Ben. It wouldn’t do to let the man know too much about the ongoings of the _Finalizer_. He let himself into the commander’s berths, going into his room to quickly change into a fresh uniform, one without the wrinkles brought on by a long day.

He grabbed his datapad, going across the hall to Ben’s berth and knocking. He waited though he could have just let himself into the room.

“Ben,” he called out, taking a step away from the door. “Ready?”

This time, the smuggler was able to meet him by the door, washed, wearing clean clothes, hair combed. Blaster belt on, just in case.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I didn’t have any of my formal stuff from Naboo on hand, so hopefully this is fancy enough.” He smirked as he walked out. “You guys all have great uniforms, but your clothes for guests are pretty boring.”

“I don’t feel bad admitting that we don’t often accommodate guests.” Hux almost smirked. “But I’m happy to see you finally appreciating my jackets.” The officer took a step back, gesturing. “If you’re ready.”

Ben walked out ahead of him, then waited when he realized he had no idea where they were actually going.

“I never said I didn’t. A sharp uniform is always nice on someone else.” Ben put his hands into his pockets as they walked. “I’m not sure what these clothes are saying about me right now.” He paused. “Besides the fact that I obviously didn’t think to bring my own.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much,” Hux said, still smirking slightly as he stepped ahead of Ben, walking through the level to the lift. “Nobody has enough time to care about your wardrobe.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but people do look.” Ben made sure he walked next to the other man, rather than behind him. He felt focused again, in control. It was easier to laugh and tease than it had been a few hours before.

“Maybe not for the reasons you think,” Hux said drily. “Are you so concerned with your appearance?”

“No; I don’t care that much.” Ben shrugged and half-meant it.

Hux snorted, shaking his head. “That’s a lie.”

“Well, everyone thinks about what they wear, sure. People do notice, like I said.” Ben frowned slightly. “Where are we headed anyway?”

Hux opened the lift and set the level before responding. “A holo-comm room a few levels down. The Supreme Leader will be speaking to us through a secure link.”

“So, let me ask a couple of things before we start. Obviously, I’m not going to call this guy ‘Supreme Leader.’ I don’t even know him! What should I call him? Does he have a name?”

“I would recommend you call him ‘Sir’ until he instructs you otherwise,” Hux said, taking a deep breath and tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. “However, for your own edification, his name is Snoke.”

“Snoke?” Ben didn’t recognize the name. He’d half expected him to be someone he’d know from some old story, a grand moff, an admiral of some sort. Someone dragging himself from the ruins of the Empire and the glory he’d had there. But the name Snoke was new to him.

Hux nodded as the doors opened. The hall was one that looked like any other on the ship, and Hux was glad that he had put his greatcoat on over his shoulders against the deep chill. He took a deep breath, and he couldn’t help the excitement and pride from rolling off him. He knew what this meant, he knew what was happening, and he thought that he had every move analyzed and planned out.

“I will introduce you, but I don’t doubt that he will want to speak to you privately.”

“Why? It’s not like I have anything private to say. You can stick around; how long can my meeting with the old guy take anyway?” Ben looked over at Hux and smiled. “Then we can go have some dinner.”

“I won’t hold you to that,” Hux said graciously. “What are you making?”

“Chaka noodles. Or as close as I think I can come.” Ben walked into the hall and immediately shivered. Didn’t they heat this room? “I thought you might like something with Imperial menu history.”

Hux rolled his eyes and stopped them at a pair of nondescript doors that they could have passed by easily. “How considerate.” He slid his datapad into the holding slot and scanned his cylinder, opening the doors and passing through into the room before striding through the hallway to the circular holo-vid area. The high ceilings made the room seem massive, even inside of a ship as large as the _Finalizer_. Ben walked with him, marking the sound of their boots on the floor and the slight echo that bounced around them. The room made him quieter than he wanted to be; he couldn’t find just the joke he was looking for.

“Is there an anthem that’ll play before the call?” he asked finally, and he hated how subdued his voice was. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Or a secret signal I should know? Hey, I know. Let’s totally shock the hells out of him; right when the call starts, we should just be making out right here, he’d never expect it.”

If Ben hadn’t made it obvious that he was uncomfortable before they walked into the holo room, he was making it apparent now. Hux glanced over at Ben, eyebrows up.

“I take directives from this man,” Hux said quietly, and in the large room it seemed almost reverential. Behind them the doors closed and the room became dark, except for the faint blue floorlights and the highlights around the holovid pad. “I’d rather not lower his estimation of me.”

Ben walked forward one step ahead of Hux, as though to prove to himself that he wasn’t quite as respectful.

“Are you kidding? I’m a catch. It would definitely make old man Snoke step back and say, ‘hey there, Arrik, kiddo, nice, nice.’” Ben watched the holovid pad for a few minutes, getting restless while it stayed empty longer and longer. Hux took a step back, letting Ben have his moment of humor. He used it as a defense system, and the general didn’t want him to feel as if he had anything taken away just before he met the Supreme Leader.

The smuggler sighed out loud, putting his hands on his hips as he turned back to look at Hux again. “Are you sure we’re in the right room? We’ve just been standing here in the dark for an hour. I don’t exactly have time to just stand around and wait for some old guy.”

Hux set his shoulders a little straighter as Ben spoke, watching without speaking as Snoke silently flickered into the room. Hux kept his face impassive, watching Ben for a few more seconds before gesturing behind him.

“Supreme Leader Snoke, this is Ben Organa Solo,” Hux said, and he didn’t even try to keep the pride and satisfaction out of his voice. His chin lifted sharply as he looked into Snoke’s face. Ben watched Hux’s eyes go up to meet someone else’s and closed his own for a second, swearing silently to himself. Of course. Hux continued, ignoring Ben’s embarrassment. “He’s been eager to meet you.”

Ben knew he had to speak first to get back some of the dignity he’d lost by facing the other way when the mysterious ‘Supreme Leader’ showed up. He turned to look at the projection and frowned as he looked up and up to actually see his face. He hadn’t anticipated the luminous, scarred face, the drawn mouth. He swallowed and everything he’d been about to say died in his throat.

“I’ve waited a long time to speak with you, Ben.” Snoke seemed to sit up straighter and lean forward in the same motion. “Your family keeps you carefully away from the Outer Rim.” The sentient’s voice was gravelly but oddly soft and Ben swallowed uncomfortably.

“I’m a smuggler. I go wherever I want.” He pressed his mouth when Snoke made a noise that might have been a laugh and rushed on. “I never knew you were looking for me. For that matter, I never heard your name before today.”

Behind Ben, Hux watched the set of his shoulders, seeing the insecurity and anger there. Ben was getting defensive, and Hux took a deep breath as he looked up to watch his leader’s reaction.

“You can understand our need for some...privacy, I’m sure. I would have liked to meet you sooner. Much sooner. Before your uncle could get such a strong hold on you and nearly ruin the potential you have. You look surprised. As though the fact that you have such power isn’t something you already know.” Snoke’s voice wasn’t just in the room. Ben swallowed and blinked hard, shaking his head once. It was familiar, it was something in his head. The voice had been in his head before.

“I learned what I needed and now I do what I want.” Ben shrugged, though his whole body stayed tense. Hux glanced from Snoke to Ben again, watching the smuggler carefully, reading his anger, his confusion, the way that Snoke had drawn the young man in.

“Learned what you needed on Hosnian Prime, learned what you needed at the Jedi temple, and now? You do the one thing you can learn nothing from, surrounded by those who don’t understand the power you have.” Snoke let the silence hang between them and Ben had nothing to say. He felt that this voice already knew him, had already been in his head. What did he have to gain by protesting?

Hux took a deep breath, knowing what would happen next. Affect his pride, offer him power. This was a game Hux knew how to play.

The huge sentient leaned down slightly, and even Hux felt the power swell in the room. Behind Ben, the general swallowed, setting his jaw, putting up his mental walls and focusing on his breathing slowly. He so rarely encountered this part of Snoke; he was an officer of the Order, an explerary one, and this chill wasn’t meant for him.

“I see it, Ben.” Snoke’s voice was low, echoing in the chamber that was specifically designed for his power, for his presence. “You have only begun to understand the kind of power you could have. You are strong, but you want more.”

“I know I’m strong. I have what I need for what I do.” Ben licked his lips, stepping forward, in front of Hux. “You claim you have power.” He could feel it; it resonated through him as it filled the room. “Then why do you hide? Couldn’t you bring the First Order to the top as the main player in the galaxy? Why the wait?”

“You speak about the galaxy as though it was the small domain the Senate calls the New Republic. You cannot see the Republic for the farce it is. Factions still quarreling over petty things, sending their representatives with base complaints while true authority eludes every Senate committee, every proposal that is passed. The Senate is as corrupt as it is weak.” Snoke’s tone was one of casual disgust and Ben felt his cheeks burning.

“So you need power to cultivate power,” he responded after a minute.

“To cultivate order.” Snoke looked to Hux and nodded to him, the approval he knew the general craved. Hux swallowed, tilting his head up, jaw set, mouth pressed in silent assent. “To cultivate potential. Why does Luke Skywalker call you to return, over and over? To teach you the ways of the Force?” His voice was sneering, and even through his disfigured face it was easy to see the contempt, “To bind your potential to the path of the Jedi, to the Light, the weaker side of the Force. To limit you, as the Senate is limited. You know there is another way. It’s in your blood. It calls to you.”

Ben swallowed, again finding himself without an argument. He looked back at Hux, meeting his eyes quickly. Hux glanced over, his jaw still set, and nodded once.

Snoke sat back, his hands curling over the arms of his stone seat. His fingers seemed to crawl like spiders as he gestured loosely. At the motion the temperature in the room seemed to drop again, and Hux felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He had to set his shoulders to prevent himself from shivering. Ben’s eyes widened slightly as he looked back to the projection, so much larger than life. It was so much power and it called to the same place that had been roused earlier, when it had been Hux’s voice near his ear telling him to finish it, calling up the darkness in him. He felt confused suddenly; remembering that voice from his dreams, that voice he knew was Snoke’s, now it seemed that some of it was Hux’s encouragement, Hux’s words.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, taking another step forward. “Why would you teach me? I’m nothing to you. I’m a smuggler.”

“You could be more,” Snoke said, looking down at the two men. “I see it.” His voice dropped and Hux winced, feeling the power spike to a level that he couldn’t block out entirely.

Snoke made a soft noise like a rattling sigh as he breathed out slowly. “Stronger and more powerful than anyone imagined.”

“What do you want for it?” Ben managed to sound dismissive. He was a man who made his way through life with negotiation after negotiation. “I know nothing comes for free. No one does anything just for the good of it.” His hands were shaking by his sides as he clenched his fists and tried to close off his mind. The temptation was so strong; it filled his chest and made it hard to breathe. Or was that the sentient before him, exhibiting a power so strong it was traveling from unknown parts of space to reach him here?

“I want to know if you’re capable of controlling your power,” Snoke said softly, offering Ben a challenge. “Before I ask anything of you, I have to see what you can do.”

“What do you want to see?” Ben asked, shrugging one shoulder in an engineered gesture. No one ever asked for demonstrations, really, apart from the stupid tricks. The fire sparks. Moving a box from one bench to another.

Snoke lifted his hand slightly, fingers extended towards Ben across systems, across the galaxy. “Close your eyes, Ben.”

The power in the room increased like a heavy pressure, and Hux turned his head to the side, frowning deeply. He wore nearly the same expression he had when Ben had forced his way into his mind by accident nearly a week ago. Ben set his jaw, glancing back to Hux as though he’d heard him say something. In the strange light, the general’s pale face was ghostly, features highlighted in blurred relief. He took a shallow breath and looked back to Snoke, then closed his eyes almost obediently.

“What do you want?” he asked again, fighting past the heaviness in the room. Trying to take a deep breath. Drawing on his training, he shut himself off from the feeling brushing at his mind. It was like Snoke’s bony fingers suddenly there in his head. He built and reinforced walls in his mind, raising his chin slightly.

“Show me what you see,” Snoke said, his voice echoing, resonating in Ben’s head. “Look into your future and find what your potential holds.”

Ben set his jaw and frowned, shaking his head. His future was what it was now, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_ , wandering the galaxy. That was his choice. There was nothing this creature could offer him; he wasn’t made to be a military crony. His brow furrowed and he pushed as hard as he could against the intrusion in his thoughts.

“My future is my own. It’s not set yet.” No one was allowed in his head. “Ask me something else.”

Snoke sighed and the weight increased. Hux’s walls held, barely, but his head bowed and his nails dug into the meat of his hand.

“Show me,” Snoke demanded, his voice loud and focused on Ben. “Walk down the path, show me what you see.”

Ben’s eyelashes moved on his cheeks, but his eyes stayed closed. He felt Hux behind him, felt the way he was fighting. He could feel the fear in him as well, and he hated that suddenly.

“Then look,” he said roughly, lowering his walls at once to pull Snoke’s focus onto him, into him. He gasped quietly when he felt the enormity of it suddenly, the galaxy of stars exploding outward before pulling back down onto him. He saw dark skies illuminated by red fire, ruins in places he’d never visited but knew. He felt the grip of a lightsaber in his hand, heard the hum louder, more violent, than the weapon his uncle kept for him. Luke’s voice, or maybe it was his mother’s, asking him to stop, stop Ben, but there was nothing in him that could answer to the names the galaxy threw at him. Solo, Organa, Skywalker.

Skywalker.

He heard it again, then, the breathing behind him, the distinctive mechanical wheeze he knew from the old holovids that he snuck into the Great Library to watch. Grandfather. The memory of his voice that night, at the temple, was pulled forward into the future. Tell me again, Grandfather. He felt himself walking, the heavy cape behind him, the red of his lightsaber, the power in the gloved hand he raised slowly. He heard a girl’s voice call him again (was it Rey?), then Arrik’s voice by his ear. Finish it.

Ben gasped and opened his eyes.

Snoke sat back, watching Ben almost lazily. The holovid flickered, and the pressure seemed to decrease in the room. Behind Ben, Hux straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath before looking back up at the Supreme Leader.

“I can teach you, Ben,” Snoke said, voice soft. “If you’d let me.”

“Six months,” Ben said, voice hoarse as though he’d been screaming. He barely recognized his own voice. He could still feel the sensation of the Force in his hand, rising from that place in him he’d always shoved down, had always been taught to deny. It was fuller, richer. He thought he could taste blood in his mouth. “I’ll try your teaching for six months. If at that point I don’t want to continue, I’ll leave.”

The Supreme Leader nodded, and his spindly fingers tapped the seat again. “Good,” he said, and it was almost a whisper. “You will stay on board the _Finalizer_ until it is time for us to meet face to face.”

Hux felt that pride again, taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself. He shifted his gaze to look forward, not raising his eyes to Snoke. Ben set his shoulders, licking his lips.

“That’s fine.” He paused. “That’s all you wanted? You don’t want me to do anything else?” It seemed insignificant, something that wouldn’t impress someone. The Force, to anyone else, meant the physical things he could do.

Snoke made a noise that sounded like a hum. “Is there anything you want to show me?”

Hux glanced from the foot of the holopad to Ben, watching him carefully. Even after what happened, he wanted to prove himself. It was fascinating. Snoke had seen what he wanted and Ben was demanded that he take more.

Ben glanced around the room, then back to Snoke. His limbs felt shaky and his heart was still pounding. He shrugged finally.

“I’m not a performer, sir. I just wasn’t sure the interview was over.” He stepped back, opening and closing his fist by his side.

“I’ve seen enough,” Snoke said dismissively. “We will start our training together soon.” He nodded at Hux, who looked up to meet the Supreme Leader’s gaze. “Take care of him, general.”

Hux swallowed, and Snoke inclined his head slightly as the holovid flickered out. The general adjusted his greatcoat and took a step back, away from the pad. Ben pressed his mouth and stared at the empty space for another minute. He felt the Supreme Leader’s absence in the room; expecting to be able to take a deep breath, he felt like he was in a vacuum, waiting for the air to rush back into the room.

He wasn’t sure what he’d just agreed to.

“Hungry?” he croaked out, then turned to look at Hux.

Hux licked his lips and nodded, taking a deep breath before going to the exit behind them. “I hope you’re up to cooking,” he said, eager to get out of the room. “I’m feeling peckish.”

Ben followed him quickly, as ready as Hux to leave the huge empty room.

“Sure. If your whole system works as well as you say it does, the ingredients should be waiting for us.” He rubbed his hands on his pants, then tucked them into his pockets.

“It works,” Hux said shortly. As they left the room, the general pulled his datapad out of the reader, and the doors locked behind Ben. Hux could feel that they were both subdued from the encounter, but the general was just angry enough to pretend that he hadn’t been affected. Snoke rarely used his power like that, and Hux had only felt it a few times. What need did the Supreme Leader have to intimidate the best and brightest star of the First Order?

Hux remained silent during their walk to the lift and then through the officers’ level. He focused on breathing evenly, getting his emotions and thoughts in order. He hadn’t been watching Ben as closely as he would have liked, but that sort of pressure was intolerable.

Once they were on the lift, Hux finally steeled himself and looked over at Ben, frowning slightly. Ben was still pressing his mouth, then licking his lips, over and over again, while his hand was clenching and unclenching by his side.

Rising up through the _Finalizer_ , Hux took a deep breath and pushed his hair back, looking away from the man next to him.

“I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

“What?” Ben blinked himself out of his thoughts and looked over at Hux as though he’d forgotten he was there and didn’t understand why that was the first thing he’d said. He took a breath in, almost shuddering, and fought to surface completely from reliving the sensation of Snoke in his head, knowing who it was in his head, even as he begged silently, secretly, to hear that other voice, the one he’d heard just once. “I thought you were eating too?”

Hux frowned, glancing over at him again. “I assumed you had lost your appetite for food and company.”

Ben was quiet for another minute before realizing that Hux was right. He was sure his stomach would rebel if he tried to put food in it. He wanted to run, he wanted to hit things, he wanted to go somewhere where no one would know his name, his names, any of them.

“Yeah, food sounds pretty awful.” He paused. “But how about trying one of those illegal bottles of booze you keep on board?”

Hux shrugged, and he stepped off the lift onto the officer’s level ahead of Ben. “How do your tastes run?” He asked, sharpening the steel in his voice. “Expensive or priceless?”

Ben managed a slightly less sick smile as he followed after the general. “My tastes run to cheap and rotgut, but I’m always willing to give priceless a go and see how it fits,” he said, forcing his shoulders to relax.

The general could hear how forced Ben’s tone was. He set his shoulders and nodded, walking through the halls. “I have a bottle or two I’m sure will suit.”

“If you have three, we can call it a night,” Ben responded, though he still lagged slightly behind Hux as they walked.

“You have the Mist in your bag still, I’m sure that counts.”

“From what I’ve heard around, that’ll knock us sideways.” Ben almost managed a smile over in Hux’s direction.

“You wanted a night,” Hux said softly, and it was almost a joke. It was enough of one to make Ben laugh and this time, it didn’t sound like he was choking.

“Then yeah, maybe we should lead with that.” He wanted to ask which bottle would wipe his mind clean, but he was pretty sure the general would take the question the wrong way. Though he had to have felt it, he knew he’d felt it. He’d seen Hux’s tense jaw when he’d looked back, seen the way he turned his head as though that would give him some protection from that intense pressure. The pressure he’d known he had had to take off Hux before he cracked wide open. He swallowed, remembering what it had felt like at that moment, when he’d just dropped his own walls and let Snoke in.

Hux made a noise, not responding. He didn’t want to dwell on the kind of power he had been witness to. It was beyond him, unattached to the real reason he was here, in this moment. He was a general, and not a Jedi, and he had no desire to dabble in the Force. The encounter was just another uncomfortable abuse he suffered, one of many. They continued through the level and Hux let them into the foyer, stepping over to his quarters.

“I’ll bring the bottles over,” Hux said, scanning his cylinder, but holding the door closed, looking over at Ben. “Do you need a moment?”

How could Ben admit he wanted an hour to scream at the sky?

“Yeah, give me a second to wash my face and find cups.” Ben walked to his own door, fishing his cylinder out of his pocket to unlock it. “Just like...five minutes, how about that?”

Hux nodded, opening up his berth and sliding in without giving Ben a chance to look into the rooms. He quickly took off his coat and found a protein bar before unearthing the two expensive bottles of alcohol.

While Hux was in his own rooms, Ben walked into his and looked around. Apart from his bag that he’d hidden in one of the compartments, and the dirty clothes still shed in a pile on the bathroom floor, nothing here was his. No one knew he was here. It was freedom and isolation. He was heading toward the voice in his head that his mother had told him was a bad dream. He couldn’t deny the power Snoke offered, how it called to his own. He was excited, he was violated. He walked into the washroom and scrubbed his face with cold water and a rough cloth, leaving his skin reddened and wet hair framing his face.

In four minutes, he was sitting on the floor in the main room with a wrench and several other tools from the workbench, struggling to pry the coupler free for the _Millennium Falcon_.

The general decided to be generous, giving Ben ten minutes to himself before he walked over and knocked on the other man’s door. By the time Hux knocked, Ben had some control of his emotions back; when he opened the door for his guest (was he a guest, if this was his ship?) he grinned crookedly and stepped back.

“I found cups; they’re pretty big. I’m guessing they’re meant for water, but they should serve our purpose pretty well.” His hands were grease and rust covered.

Hux’s eyebrows rose and he looked from Ben’s dirty hands to his face, making a noise.

“Of course.” He held out the two bottles, one a bright green and the other clear as polished glass, full of a bright amber liquid that seemed to move slowly, like honey. “How refined is your sense of irony?”

“That depends on what I’m being asked to swallow.” Ben looked curiously from one bottle to the other, then took the one with the golden liquid. “Is this supposed to be downed straight or do you cut it with something?”

He stepped back to let Hux walk into the room, though his attention was on the bottle as he tilted it to watch the liquid seep more than flow along the narrowed neck.

Hux made a noise, walking in and putting the green bottle on Ben's workdesk. He looked over the tools Ben had laid out and saw the progress made on the dirty coupler.

“They're both sipping alcohols, and I wouldn't recommend cutting this with anything but water.” He went over to sit on the couch, making himself comfortable. He watched the amber liqour move slowly in the glass Ben held. “That is Idlewil liquor, often used to spike drinks, but I find it soothing straight.”

Ben knelt down by the low table where he’d set the glasses; somehow the table had become his singularly used piece of furniture. He set things on it, he sat on it. He hadn’t slept on it yet, but it wasn’t out of the question. He pulled the heavy crystal topper out of the bottle and made a noise when the heavy, herbal scent emerged and then dissipated.

“That...huh. That’s something else already, isn’t it?” Ben shook his head then reached to pour liberal amounts in each of the large glasses he’d found in the galley. “Here. If I’m getting spiked, you’re getting spiked.”

“This is excessive,” Hux muttered but accepted the glass anyway before leaning back. Ben sat back on his heels and held the glass up to look at the level, then he shrugged and looked over at Hux.

“Just drink what you can handle. I’ll finish the rest.” He knelt up again and held his glass over closer to the couch. “Do you have any good toasts from Arkanis?”

Hux almost chucked. The idea was ridiculous.

“None you would approve of, glory to the First Order, bless our ships, heed your calling.” He snorted and shook his head, leaving forward to tap his glass against Ben’s.

“May the sun shine on us tomorrow,” he said, raising his glass and meeting Ben's eyes before taking a sip of the savory, barely sweet juniper liquor. Ben kept his eyes on Hux’s for as long as he could before taking his own long sip. He knew Arkanis by reputation, though he’d obviously never been there. He’d also been on planets where the sun or suns seemed unbearably cruel. But damp, long nights were inevitably crueler. It was a toast that nearly anyone could agree to.

The liquid was thicker than most of what he drank and while it didn’t burn, it left a diffused sting in his throat. The smuggler made a noise and nodded to Hux.

“Not bad,” he commented before taking another, longer swig of the potent stuff. He shifted so he could lean back against the couch, still sitting on the floor and pulling his knees up. Hux looked down at him, frowning slightly. There was room on the couch, there were two other chairs. Ben certainly didn’t need to sit on the floor. The smuggler looked over at the general, then down to his cup. “I meant to ask before. Where did I actually agree to go?”

“The Supreme Leader is on a secure planet, sometimes attended by his Knights. I believe that you will stay on board for the next two months as we make our way to Arkanis, and you’ll be taken to meet the Supreme Leader in person at that time,” Hux said, gesturing with his glass slightly.

“Oh yeah, the mysterious Knights.” Ben widened his eyes theatrically then shrugged. “I guess I’ll see Arkanis in person then.” He took a long sip of the liquor. “See the place that made you the man you are.”

Hux snorted, setting his jaw. He took a deep breath, letting the momentary anger and annoyance slide off.

“Arkanis is just a planet, and the Academy is just a school,” he muttered, taking another sip of the liquor and letting the spice fill his mouth. “I made me.”

“You can’t say you’re the product of just yourself,” Ben scoffed with a little more vehemence than he would have earlier in the day. “No one can say that.”

Hux glared at Ben and didn’t look away. “I’ll say it.” His voice was bitter, his tone hard.

“Even if you hate him, your father had a hand in you today.” Ben turned, resting his arm on the couch cushion as he watched Hux’s face. “Even if you wanted him dead every day of your life, even that made you. Made the core of you that you built around.” He took another sip; the drink went down easily, though it seemed to stir in his belly with the thick movement it had when he tipped the bottle.

“Don’t speak about my father as if you know what he made,” Hux said, voice so low that it was almost a threat. He took another sip of the liquor, turning away to look out the bay.

“He wanted a clone army, didn’t he? A whole program, face after face after face, all the same.” He tilted his head. “And he made you. The different face.” Ben laughed to himself, moving up to sit on the other end of the couch.

“Brendol Hux had been a junior officer in the Grand Army of the Republic.” Hux didn’t even bother to hide the distaste in his voice. “He was dissatisfied with the quality of soldier that the Imperial Army employed; he wanted to return to the clones of the Grand Army. He wanted that...absolute control over thinking, breathing troops.” He took a deep breath and shrugged, taking another sip of the liquor. “He wanted to create a new kind of soldier at Arkanis. Not clones, but close.”

Ben leaned his head back against the seat cushion; the couch was not as soft as he’d thought it might be. It was not a couch in a Senate guest room. He turned his head to watch Hux.

“So he tossed you into the experiment? How old were you when you started at the academy? You know, the one that supposedly doesn’t really exist.” He smiled at the general lazily.

Hux glanced over at Ben, glaring at him. He shook his head once.

“I don’t want to speak about this.”

Ben made a noise and reached over to tap Hux’s thigh with the the back of his hand. Before he said anything, he took another sip.

“Fair enough, fair enough. What do you want to talk about?” He leaned his head back again. “How about that ridiculous room? How about the temperature? Does he think that’s difficult? That’s not hard at all.”

Hux took a long, steadying breath and closed his eyes. “The room is created to allow Snoke’s power to transfer across systems,” Hux said quietly. “I assumed the temperature aided the transference.”

“Mm-mm,” Ben shook his head. “It wasn’t like that when we walked in. Not as much as it was when he wanted it.” He held up his hand and closed his eyes. “It’s not so difficult.”

Hux frowned, opening his eyes and looking over at Ben. “What are you doing?” He shifted on the couch, one leg over the other, his free hand hanging over the side of the couch. The posture could almost be considered casual.

“I was going to show you,” Ben answered, opening one eye and looking over at Hux. He let his hand fall back into his lap.

Sipping his drink, Hux gestured with a couple fingers, turning his wrist. “Show me then.”

Without saying anything, Ben took the little challenge as though he was back in the dormitory at the temple, engaged in the dares the younglings had tossed at one another after curfew. He raised his hand again, palm up and fingers spread. Hux shifted, leaning forward slightly, watching him. Ben inhaled slowly, the tendons in his wrist tightening when he breathed out. When he exhaled, the temperature in the room dropped as though the heat was being drained from the air.

Hux frowned, and the chill went through his jacket. He swallowed, shaking his head, and took another sip of the liquor, hoping it would warm him up. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he watched Ben. The smuggler’s finger closed in on his palm and the room continued to cool in a slow but continuous decline. Ben himself seemed unaffected by the cold.

Hux didn’t protest, setting his jaw as it got steadily colder in the room. He hunched his shoulders and leaned forward, holding onto his glass with both hands. Ben exhaled in a long slow breath again, and it was visible in the air, a faint pale cloud by his mouth. He opened his eyes slowly and looked over at the general.

“See? Not that hard.” He dropped his hand and the room was immediately the ship’s set temperature. He took another drink and looked down into his cup, surprised by how little was left.

Hux frowned and shook his head, annoyed. “So simple,” he muttered, looking down at his glass and then Ben’s. He pushed his hair back and sat up again straighter. “Have another,” the officer instructed.

Ben nodded and leaned forward to refill his glass. His shoulders had relaxed finally, and he got up to sit on the couch. He leaned back into it as though his spine was happy to match the shape of the cushion behind him.

“Thanks. All your bottles are full, like you never even taste them. How come?” He stretched his legs out in front of himself.

“They aren’t full. They just aren’t empty,” Hux said, shaking his head. “Simply because you can’t open a bottle without finishing it doesn’t mean everyone has so little self control.”

Ben smiled slowly and leaned over towards Hux, eyes half closed. “Who says I have no self control, huh?”

Hux frowned, looking over at Ben. “What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

“Exhibiting self control. I ain’t in your lap right now, am I?” Ben teased, then laughed.

“Why on all the stars would you do that?” Hux was frowning, staring at Ben as if he’d sprouted a second head. Ben snorted and shook his head and sat up again.

“Should I drink more and we can find out?” Ben asked, slumping slightly so he could put his boots up on the table.

Hux took a deep breath, shaking his head. “By all means, I’m not stopping you.”

Instead of answering, Ben downed a few centimeters of his drink. After he swallowed, letting it warm his body all the way down, he leaned back again. Hux shifted forwards, picking up the decanter to refill Ben’s glass and add a small amount more to his own. As he set the bottle down, he turned slightly to watch the other man.

“Here I’m going into training again. I haven’t done that in awhile. Not since last time I stayed at the temple. At least...yeah. Formal. I try sometimes. On my own.” Ben turned his head to watch Hux, though his eyes weren’t as focused as they usually were. “I can’t guess what this’ll be like, but I’m already trying.”

Hux frowned slightly, his glass on his knee. Even though his glass and Ben’s were both full, he knew that Ben had drunk almost twice as much as he had. “What are you trying to do?”

“Anticipate.” Ben took a slow breath and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back away from his face. “Who doesn’t do that, right? Like, I tried to picture what my life would be like on the _Falcon_. I tried to figure out what your ship would be like.” He leaned over and poked Hux in the chest. “What you would be like. Isn’t that something we get with the Force? A sense of what will happen. We feel it.”

Hux tensed at the touch, but pushed his revulsion down.

“What else can you do?” Hux asked, watching him carefully.

“Are you serious? Just about anything. Anything I’m allowed to. Or maybe now it’s anything, right? Anything.” Ben lifted his glass, then lowered it again.

Hux made a low noise, sipping the liquor and shifting forward. He kept his eyes on Ben, watching him carefully.

“Like what?” he pressed, voice quiet. “Who’s stopping you from doing whatever you want?”

“Don’t you know? Don’t they teach you about us?” Ben looked up at the ceiling, letting his head fall back against the top of the couch. “We have a code. It tells us how to think. What to do. Mostly it tells us what to feel.” He kicked one foot against the table. “How to feel.”

“I know very little about the Jedi beyond their historical impact. The code was never important; regardless of your religious beliefs, they were still generals. They still killed in the name of the Grand Army,” Hux explained, not taking another drink in favor of keeping his attention on his guest. “Do you resent that? Being told how to feel?”

“Well, how idiotic is that? Who ever got stronger being told to feel nothing? When are you powerful, when you’re lying there paralyzed with apathy or when you’re angry? Who do you protect more? Someone who doesn’t mean anything to you or someone you care about? How can you just...not feel? What are you then? Dead. You’re dead inside then.” Ben gestured with his drink, then frowned and sat back again.

Hux sighed through his nose, nodding at Ben’s drink. “Finish that glass,” Hux instructed, standing up. “I think you’re ready for the Corellian whiskey.” Ben made a noise and downed the rest of what was in his cup, then sat forward and held it out.

“Yeah, okay. Fill me up, gorgeous.” Ben smiled lazily and shook the empty glass.

Hux rolled his eyes, putting his glass on the table and taking Ben’s before walking over to the worktable. He uncorked the bottle and made an appreciative noise, pouring him only a few fingers worth.

“Here. Barrelled by the Ovebana distillery before the Clone Wars, one of the best vintages to come out of Corellia in decades. Doubt even your father knows how this tastes,” Hux smirked, voice low as he held the glass out to Ben. The smuggler raised his eyebrows as he took it, looking down at the liquid and swirling it around slowly.

“A favorite of yours, huh? What’m I expecting?” There was a definite slur to his words now. Before Hux could answer, he raised the glass to his mouth.

Hux smirked, sitting down on the couch again.

“Spice, some caramel notes, then rich cedar overtones.” Hux put the bottle down on the table and leaned back again, watching Ben. “Since I know so little about Jedi, why don’t you tell me what I need to know,” he said easily. He wanted to know what was important to Ben, how he defined his place in the world.

“I don’t know what you need to know. There aren’t many. What’re the chances you’ll ever even meet one?” Ben laughed and took a sip, then made a noise. “Open your mouth. You want to taste all those...what did you say, notes?” He shifted closer to Hux, dipping his finger into the cup as he watched the general’s eyes closely.

“I met you,” Hux said carefully, eyebrows drawn down. This was unexpected and confusing. Hux had made no overtures, and he wasn’t quite sure what Ben had to gain from this sort of interaction. Currently the general had no intention of sleeping with Ben Solo, and this gesture was...odd. “And,” he paused, his eyes flicking from Ben’s finger to his face, “I know what it tastes like.”

Ben leaned closer, smiling slowly and he lifted his finger out of the liquor, a heavy drop hanging from his fingertip.

“Open your mouth, and I’ll tell you the code we’re taught to live and die by,” he said quietly, “Don’t you want to taste that?” He snickered a little, then met his eyes again.

The general frowned deeper, put off balance by the fact that he saw no tactical reason why he should engage with Ben Solo on a physical level. Surely if Ben was as in tune with the world around him as he said he was, he wouldn’t think that this would give him any kind of advantage over Hux.

The officer shook his head, holding Ben’s eyes. He leaned forward to put his hand on Ben’s shoulder, pushing his back against the cushions, a clear rejection, before he returned to his side of the couch. Hux wasn’t above taking advantage of an intoxicated man, but he didn’t need to take Ben’s clothes off to do that.

“What do you live and die for?” Hux asked, his ice-eyes narrowed, voice hard. The smuggler looked up at him with half a smile, but his eyes held a faint smolder to them, something angry and burning and deep.

“Don’t you know?” Ben asked in a light tone. It darkened as he spoke, as though the alcohol was corroding his throat with the words. The cadence was sing-songy, like a children’s verse. Or something he’d had to memorize as a very young child.

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.” Ben shook his head slightly, not looking away from Hux’s pale eyes. “Do you hear all of that? Do not live, but pretend you’re living. Don’t love, don’t hate, don’t feel. Just learn and meditate and pretend that’ll help the galaxy when the time comes. The galaxy, not those you love. Because there shouldn’t be anyone.” He felt like he couldn’t stop talking. “And if you run away, it doesn’t matter, because you’ll hear those words every time you try to do anything. You aren’t allowed to be afraid or angry. Because they’re afraid, they’re the ones who are always afraid. Do you know what they’re afraid of? That at any second, they’ll make one wrong step and fall to the dark side.”

Hux didn’t look away from Ben, and his dark eyes suddenly seemed deeper, as if he had tapped a mine. These were the words that haunted Ben Solo, that hurt him and destroyed him. If there was anything Ben was running away from, it was this. His mother and father may have been factors, but this, the coda of an extinct religion, was what kept the smuggler up at night.

Even Brendol Hux had only told his son to look as if he wasn’t feeling, to seem unmoving. The act of being devoid of emotion entirely seemed impossible, even to a man like Arrik.

“Is that all it takes?” Hux asked, not looking away from the mess of a man next to him. “One wrong step and suddenly your eyes turn red and you start wearing intimidating black capes?”

“I don’t know,” Ben replied with drunken simplicity. “I feel like I’ve taken a few wrong steps, but they’re not wrong at the time. And later steps right them.” He frowned and licked his lips. “I’m not...a tool. I’ve read. A lot! Old teachings, which my uncle clings to because he never had a real master, they all indicate that a Jedi should let the Force use him. But...does that make sense? Being one with something shouldn’t mean you completely lose yourself, should it?”

Hux frowned, shaking his head. “They’re asking you to shed your emotions, your attachments, your family, even your focus, even your agency, simply because you have a connection to the power that supposedly moves the universe.” Hux shook his head, putting his glass down on the low table and turning to look at Ben again. “Sounds like the Jedi don’t want people, they want puppets.”

“I…” Ben sat forward and held himself very still, as though Hux had trapped him and he had no exit. “No...I didn’t say…” But he had, he’d said it out loud. He felt so intensely, and what he felt was the bright surety of the light side and the draw of the passionate power of the dark. Equally. There was no room for half of him in the order his uncle was so dedicated to raising up again. “I didn’t say that,” he gulped and sat back again as though exhausted by the lie.

For a few more seconds, Hux said nothing, watching Ben’s face change, his hands on the glass, the creases between his eyebrows. He shook his head and sighed softly, standing up.

“You did,” he said simply, going to the chair to pick up his greatcoat and tucking it over his shoulders. “Not understanding your power is a shame, but not using it is a waste.”

Ben watched the general and was slowly touched by the realization that he had drunk far more than the other man had. Hux’s steps were steady; he didn’t think he could stand up.

“I have every intention of using it.” He looked down and tightened his hand on the glass; it hummed briefly with the interplay of physical and mental pressure he was applying to it. “I’m no one’s tool. I’m no one’s weapon.”

Hux shrugged as he turned to watch Ben, gaze settling on the smuggler’s hands. “Sometimes you need to find an acceptable threshold.” He shifted, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Self determination is no easy thing, bordering on a luxury. A greater purpose is often necessary.”

“I can’t help build the Republic.” Ben licked his lips; he hadn’t meant to say that aloud either. “I can’t...build something that is already old and corrupt.”

“You could build something new.” Hux spoke slowly, tone almost kind. “Here, if you’d like.”

Ben shook his head slightly and swallowed.

“This isn’t new either. What’s new about it? It’s the Empire, all over again, but without the power to make it great.” He sounded almost mournful. “And I can’t...he told me to, but I don’t know if I can…”

Hux stepped forwards, leaning down to put his hand on Ben’s jaw and turning his face upwards. The general was standing over the other man, and he looked strong, every part of him under tightly-kept control.

“We have the power.” His voice was full of conviction, sure, absolute, final. He kept his hand tight on Ben’s jaw, even as he knew that this wasn’t any way to subdue the man on the couch. Even drunk, Ben-kriffing-Solo was stronger than Hux, and the thought infuriated the general. “We will be better.”

Ben didn’t pull away from Hux’s insistent fingers; there was strength in the other man’s hand, physical strength as well as a fierce force of will that he wore like the greatcoat over his shoulders. Armor, an aura. He told himself he could pull away if he wanted to. All he’d have to do would be to jerk his head to the side. Hux would let go.

“What power do you have? That old man?” Just the memory of Snoke sent a sharp sensation up his spine and he swallowed harshly. That was power, and that was a path to power. “If he’s all you need, then why do you still hide in the Unknown Regions?”

“These systems have been long neglected by the Galactic Republics. Lawlessness, disorder, extinction-- it happens here first. The Red Alpha virus that your New Republic made still ravages Ithor, the scavengers in the Unknown Regions know nothing but hunt, steal, and no one steps up to stop them. The Order is straightening these sentients into lines, creating some kind of reality for them where they can survive without fearing a corrupt official or power-hungry Senator who sends ten men from his system to theirs and calls it a legal colony.” Hux spoke quietly, his eyes flicking over Ben’s. “We are not hiding.”

Ben raised his chin, though he didn’t pull away from Hux’s grip.

“It’s not my New Republic.” His hand tightened on the glass he still held but had forgotten about. “And you are hiding. You don’t have the power to actually attack. You’re like the scavengers, taking ships from smugglers, the odd luxury cruisers, establishing yourselves on planets with no defense. Creating order. Who defines order?”

“I do.” Hux’s grip tightened on Ben’s chin before he slid his hand up, fingers pressing into Ben’s cheek. “Don’t think because you have heard rumors you know our reach.”

“When you say ‘our,’ it’s impossible not to hear your own lofty aim. General.” Ben clenched his jaw. “You know you don’t have the power to do it on your own though, do you? Am I interesting to you? General?”

Hux let go of Ben, standing up straight and looking down his nose at the smuggler. His expression was full of contempt, satisfaction in the knowledge he had that he was powerful enough. It was a certainty that Arrik Hux demanded power, commanded it. He had it, though it didn’t flower from his fingers like Ben’s Force.

“You have managed to capture some amount of my attention,” Hux said, and it was nearly a compliment but not quite praise. Ben smiled slowly, with something that was keener than the drunken fog he found himself sliding back into.

“Then you should keep watching me. I am not a power to be ignored.” He kept his eyes on Hux’s, not losing any of his strength from having to look up to do so.

Hux made a small gesture, tilting his head to the side. “Give me something to watch.”

Ben dropped his chin slightly, but his gaze was dark and heavy on the general’s. He breathed in slowly, holding his glass up as though he’d make a toast. But the glass hung in the air when he pulled his hand away, fingers steady even with as much as he’d drained from the bottles Hux had brought to his room. He spread his fingers slightly, palm still curled, and the glass floated up to level with Hux’s face.

The general set his shoulders, eyes on the crystal as it rose. Ben watched him closely, waiting for one flinch, more than a pale eyelash’s twitch. His mouth pressed slightly, and the liquor in the glass ignited into blue fire. It reflected in Hux’s eyes and on his skin; the small intense heat was close enough to feel the acrid fumes of the burning alcohol. Hux took in a small, short breath as his eyes widened, although his expression did not change further.

“Are you watching now?” Ben asked, voice slightly higher, lofty, apart from himself.

The display was easy to watch, easy to comprehend, but the sharp vapors from the alcohol burned his eyes, and Hux narrowed his gaze at Ben. He made a noise, though he kept his bearing casual.

“Cute,” Hux said lowly, watching Ben as he drifted into his drunkenness easily. It seemed practiced, almost, as if this weren’t an indulgence. “But the threat of fire is an old one.”

In one movement, Ben was on his feet with a sharp gesture of his hand that sent the flaming glass crashing into the wall. He took its place in front of the general, just as close, just as incendiary. Hux didn’t flinch, but he set his jaw as his eyes flicked over Ben’s face, across his shoulders. Oddly, he found himself frustrated by the way that alcohol had made Ben both unpredictable and easily led.

“But aren’t we here to make all the old things new again?” the smuggler asked softly, voice seeming to drop in register. He didn’t step back after the words died between them, just stayed that close, that intense, impatient but not sure what he was waiting for.

Tilting his head up, Hux put his hand on Ben’s jacket, holding him by the lapel. He pushed against him with his knuckles, guiding the smuggler to turn and walk backwards towards the observation bay, towards the long window that stretched from one end of the berth to the other. Ben set his heel when Hux forced him back a step, intending to stop his movement, but the strong liquor he’d drunk steadily as they’d talked unmoored him and he found himself carried by the other man’s momentum. He grabbed onto Hux’s wrist, eyes furious as his back came up against the window.

“We are,” Hux said softly, holding Ben at arm’s length. “But you will have to do more than small tricks to divert my attention.”

Ben ground his teeth, muscles shifting in his jaw. His pride rose up in his throat and stopped him from saying anything. He could have shoved the general back across the room with half a thought when he’d touched him. He could have shattered that glass and spattered its burning contents across the man’s pale, unmarred face. All the things he could have done but had not, the display of power that he did not indulge in, that’s what Hux threw at him now as an insult, as if the man himself did not know what he was capable of.

How dare he think that he wasn’t worth watching at all times?

Ben’s left hand had risen by his side, had risen with Ben’s unchecked anger, and uneven tendrils of pressure wound around Hux’s throat, as though someone just pressed a finger alongside his windpipe. Ben heard himself again, breathing through his teeth, and he forced his hand down by his side and released the power he’d been holding.

“When I want your attention,” he said finally. “I’ll have it.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed, but he did not move, did not flinch. He tilted his head up, watching Ben as the invisible pressure held against his throat.

“And when you get it, what will you do?” Hux asked softly, his voice low. “What new thing will you show me? What sort of power will you give?”

“I haven’t decided whether I’ll give it to anyone,” Ben answered. He didn’t know why they were both whispering; there was no one to hear them. “But I will definitely show you. Things you half dared to dream in your small, cold dormitory on Arkanis. Things you half dare to dream now. Now...let go of my jacket.”

Hux made a noise, shaking his head slightly, still holding onto Ben, pressing him against the super-enforced glass.

“General. Sweet cheeks.” Ben paused and licked his lips as though considering his words. “Do you want this?”

Hux’s blue eyes didn’t move from Ben’s. He took a step back, still holding the other man at arm’s length and turning slightly. He nodded once, pulling on Ben’s jacket.

“On your knees.”

Ben went down as though he was fighting gravity all the way, as though his body was too heavy, as though he would drag Hux down with him. He kept his eyes on the other man’s, and he was smiling though there was very little humor in it.

“Is this what you’ve wanted since the beginning?” His face felt warm, too hot, but his hands were ice cold.

“I don’t think I’ve made it a secret, Ben,” Hux muttered, letting go of Ben’s jacket to put his hand in his dark hair, still standing a few feet away from him. “I’ve never denied that I want you to do what I say.”

Ben tipped his chin up, kneeling with his hands down at his sides. Hux’s expression was a mix of emotions; Ben felt too muddled up himself to try to read deeper.

“There’s a difference between you wanting me to let you go on some planet and this,” he said in the same quiet voice he’d used before. There was no anger now. He was curious, and excited, and waiting.

Hux frowned, but only slightly. He kept his face neutral, his emotions composed and calculating. Tightening his hand in Ben’s hair, he tilted his head again as he watched him carefully. He saw it; saw the fierce want in the man’s eyes, the way that he was leaning forward slightly. It seemed to Hux that Ben felt at ease with this, both of them knowing that this wouldn’t be happening unless Ben allowed it to happen.

“Close your eyes.”

Closing his eyes intensified the feeling of the things around him; he was so aware of the ship’s rhythms, of Hux’s breathing above him, of the whispers still in his head drawing him ahead and back to his past. By the time he’d gotten this drunk, he usually tried to be asleep. He wanted the voices and questions quieted long enough for him to just drop into his bed. This was past that, and he watched the stars explode against his eyelids when he closed his eyes tightly.

Hux nodded, taking a step back, releasing Ben. He touched his cheek gently, pressing his fingertips against Ben’s cheekbone for a second. Without much warning, emotional or otherwise, Hux slapped Ben across the face, not moving away from where he stood.

Ben gasped and pulled back, eyes springing open as he brought his hand up, by instinct shoving with the Force. It was less focused than he was normally, but it caught Hux easily and threw him back away from Ben. The sting of the slap didn’t hurt much, but he hadn’t expected it. He stood up slowly, looking at the man sprawled across the room from him with hard eyes. Trust. That’s exactly what trust got a man. On both sides.

He strode across the room and looked down at Hux, mouth set in a fierce silent line for a moment. Then he leaned down over him, swaying again as his equilibrium betrayed him. Hux had been knocked down on his ass, and he watched Ben with wide eyes, surprised.

“If you ever make it to that throne, Arrik Hux, it’ll be because I put you there,” Ben hissed at him, pride tightening his throat.

Hux let out a breath, then snorted, shaking his head. He smiled and pushed himself to sit up before he stood, picking up his greatcoat. He arranged his hair back into some semblance of order, and it was so obvious that he wasn’t put off at all by Ben’s outburst. He chuckled, grinning, his head down. Glancing at the other man, he schooled his expression slightly.

“You would rather have my cock in your mouth than take a slap?” he asked, obvious amusement in his voice. He shook his head, walking past Ben to the galley, getting another glass and filling it with water, bringing it back to Ben. He pressed the cup against the smuggler’s chest, the first real sign of amusement fading from his expression. Ben took the cup, staring at Hux’s mouth.

“Get some sleep,” Hux said, composed again, unsurprised, confident. “We have shooting practice in the morning.”

Ben nodded to give himself an extra minute before saying anything.

“I’ll see you then, general,” he managed finally, summoning the iciest tone he could muster. His anger was too hot to succeed completely. He was still shaking slightly with unspent violence.

Hux hummed in agreement, the angle of his eyebrows somewhere in between unimpressed, unsurprised, and disappointed. He turned away from Ben, walking to the door.

“We’ll try again another time,” Hux said as the doors opened. “Sleep well.”

Ben said nothing as he watched the other man leave his berth. As soon as the doors slid shut, he hurled the glass at them, then turned and upended the table. The bottles crashed and broke on the floor, splashing the expensive liquors out over the shards of glass. He kicked over a side table by the couch, feeling no actual satisfaction when he used the Force to lift it again and send it flying into a comm panel on the wall. He stood in the center of the room, trying to catch his breath in the strange silence that followed his outburst. The lights in the room were dim now; he must have ruined something in the room controls.

The smuggler swallowed as he looked around, raking both hands through his mussed hair.

“That’s a kriffing mess,” he muttered to himself before stumbling to the sofa and letting himself fall onto it. Again, it was never as soft as he expected it to be. He was asleep before he could care.

In his own berth, Arrik shed his coat and jacket, quickly changing out of his uniform. He might have only shown it for a few seconds, but he was only encouraged by Ben’s reaction. It had been a test. Arrik had taken what he wanted and then risked a move that had only gotten him more.

Ben had been too comfortable on his knees, too eager to just play kitten. Arrik wasn’t about to let Ben Solo be comfortable around him. He knew that Ben held the power to snap his neck, kill him in seconds, but Hux would continue to push him and pressure him. He needed Ben to trust him; he wanted Ben to trust him enough to let go of that power, to allow Arrik to hurt him, to really control him.

It was a work in progress.

If Ben had just let it happen, taken the blow with nothing but a look of indignation, it would have been boring. The fight was what Arrik wanted. The struggle for power.

This was a game Hux played every day, a game he knew and breathed, and he would not be bested by a man who had nothing to play for.

He set his alarm for six hours and fell asleep fast, feeling as if he had made a few moves forward on the board.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no t/w's. but thank you all so much for the kind comments and kudos. we really, truly, deeply appreciate every one of them. this is an massive piece of writing, and we put so much time and love into it, reading your reactions is lovely. there is so much more to post, we're already working on part five! thank you all for sticking with us, and please, please, please, if you like this fic, rec it!
> 
> again, thank you all.

The next morning Hux knew better than to immediately go to Ben’s berth. He took another two hours to attend to reports and his ship, set up another meeting with Snoke and sent Ben a message warning of his arrival.

He had reserved the entire shooting range, all five bays. It was excessive, but he wanted privacy. There were other ranges, and other gyms.

After eating in the officer’s mess, Hux sent Ben yet another message, heading up to the berth level. He went into his own rooms first and changed into the approved workout uniform, thick black jersey sweatshirt included, before going across the foyer to Ben’s room and knocking.

“Are you awake?”

This time Ben had been awake for several hours, working out extensively before cleaning up and eating something he made from the ingredients that had been sent up the night before for the dinner that never happened. He had gone through his clothing options this morning, going through the cabinet to see everything that was there. None of it really spoke to his sense of style, but he finally chose a black shirt that fit pretty well with shorter sleeves that wouldn’t get in his way. He left his jacket for once; he was going to a firing range and figured he wouldn’t need it there. When he opened the door to face Hux, he definitely did not look like a man who’d drunk so much and had fallen so hard eight hours before. The room behind him still bore the marks of it though.

“More than awake. Are you ready to go? I was starting to think you’d forgotten me, sweet cheeks.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned at the general. It was his usual obnoxious expression, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again. The memory of being on his knees for Hux to laugh at burned in his gut every time he let himself remember.

Hux hummed lowly, taking a step back and gesturing. Looking behind Ben he saw quite a bit out of order, but said nothing. Ben walked out of the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. “I don’t even get a good morning?”

“I was checking for damage,” Hux muttered, smirking slightly. “The lower levels are used for training and exercise. I’ve reserved a full range for us.”

“You worried I’m just that bad when it’s not a life or death situation?” Ben asked as they left the berth and headed for the lift that was the start of all their trips through the _Finalizer_. Hux let him take the lead, shrugging.

“I prefer privacy. Some of the troopers can get a little rowdy when they don’t immediately see general’s bars.”

“Can we define ‘rowdy’ in this scenario? It sounds like it could be fun.” Ben grinned almost viciously.

“Speaking loudly,” Hux said, eyebrows up as he opened the lift, heading to the in-tram.

Ben realized, after considering this a moment, that he literally had no idea whether Hux was being honest or attempting a joke.

“Well, I’ll make sure I whisper my winning score in your ear.” He looked Hux over as if for the first time. “I like this uniform better. It’s nice. More cozy.”

Hux rolled his eyes, stepping off the lift and heading towards the station. “It’s not about being cozy,” Hux pointed out. “It’s practical.” Ben spread his arms, turning himself toward Hux. All of this was performance, the goofy, unconcerned smuggler. That was all he was giving the man beside him.

“Is this practical?” he asked as though he actually cared about approval.

Hux frowned slightly, watching him. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“Me?” Ben furrowed his brows as he looked over at the general. “Is that what my clothes make you think? I got these out of the stuff you left for me!”

“You’re acting wooden,” Hux said, stopping as they arrived at the station.

“Well...don’t know what to tell you. I mean, I guess you’d know wooden since you have that stick perpetually up your—” The tram pulled up with perfect timing and Ben grinned at Hux as he stepped onto it. “Hey! We timed that really well!”

Hux shook his head, walking onto the tram next to Ben. “I’m not entirely sure you didn’t plan that,” Hux muttered, going over to the wall next to Ben and holding onto one of the poles. “You’ll finally get to try out those blasters you’ve been so eager about.”

“The ones I use regularly aren’t so bad. Relatively reliable, relatively straight shooting. They do the job for me. I’m not exactly taking over small planets, just keeping my small business afloat.” Ben leaned against the wall to watch the corridors fly by them.

“Do you downplay your ambitions to make them more palatable to others or do you just enjoy lying to yourself?” Hux asked, speaking softly. Ben swallowed but refused to look over at him. When he answered, his tone was still the jovial captain he presented to the galaxy.

“I’m plenty palatable. As a matter of fact, if it’s not against your ship rules concerning fraternization, I bet there are a few officers who’d be happy to see what my bedroom looks like.” He smiled and it almost reached his eyes.

Hux saw it there, the way that his shoulders set, the way that he faked the smile he shot over at the general. The officer shrugged. “It’s not against the rules. It’s not encouraged, but it’s allowed.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I mean, I went through everything, but I couldn’t find my First Order rulebook. You should consider putting those in guestrooms, so we know how to behave in various situations. One night liaisons, getting fall-down drunk, proper attire for privately reserved firing ranges.” Ben heard his voice getting a little harsh and he reined it back in. “It’s only fair.”

Stars, the man wore every emotion on his sleeve, didn’t he. Hux tilted his head up, glancing over at him. “You could always ask. You can message me anytime.” He paused, resetting his footing as the intram slowed at their stop. “When will I get my whiskey back?”

Ben made a noise, walking over to stand by the doors. As soon as they opened he stepped out.

“You said I could finish the bottle, didn’t you?” Either that or you can suck it out of that little grey carpet, he thought to himself without pushing the thought toward the other man. “Which way?” He looked both ways as he stepped out of the station, heading to a lift.

Hux smirked as he left the tram, satisfied that the other man was showing his annoyance.

“You have an impressive tolerance.”

“It’s a trait I inherited from both parents,” Ben commented with a shrug pausing before falling into step with Hux. The general directed the lift as they entered, the encased platform heading down.

“Well I hope you enjoyed it.” Hux said, glancing over at Ben, eyebrows up.

“The tastiest,” Ben replied a little tersely. Hux thought about smiling. “Anyhow, where is this place?” Ben looked around as they walked; this level was set up differently than the others he’d visited, though it did put him in mind of the series of training rooms by the sim pods.

“We’re on the gym level. Shooting ranges are just over there.” Hux pointed as they walked. A few troopers in workout gear recognized the general and fell absolutely silent as they passed. Seeing that, Ben re-evaluated Hux’s comment about trooper ‘rowdiness.’

“I have access to all of this too, right?” He felt better having worked his body until his muscles were sore that morning, and he felt that having a place to do it, with undoubtedly top notch equipment, would help center him even better.

“You do.” Hux nodded, glancing around as they walked. “There are gyms, equipment rooms, shooting ranges, and various weapons’ training rooms. Anything you want to practice we have a place for.”

He turned down a hallway, gesturing. “Here are the ranges. We-” he went to the second door, scanning his cylinder and typing in his ID code. A green approval flashed and the doors opened, “are right here.”

The shooting range was well-lit, bright and stark, going back at least sixty yards. They entered the viewing area, a long window showing the five stations. The far right wall held a veritable armory of First Order weapons, three of each, small pistol blasters, standard-issue rifles, wide-bore cannons, repeating megablasters, a pair of long-muzzled sniper rifles and even one massive bazooka ion tucked against the corner. Ben’s eyebrows were just about at his hairline as he slowly took in the array on the wall. Some of those blasters were mysteries to him, some he’d been dealing in for a year. He wanted to try one of each.

“Huh,” he said aloud.

Hux glanced over at him, not quite rolling his eyes. “You have to sign them out,” he explained, going over to the wall and scanning his cylinder. He pulled two of the standard F-11D blaster rifles off the wall, walking over to Ben and holding one out to him. It was a larger model than the small hand pistol Ben had taken from him in the storehouse a week ago. “Don’t get greedy.”

Ben grinned more genuinely as he accepted the rifle, looking it over once it was in his hands. “Who said I was being greedy. Now I know where they all are, I don’t have to rush.” His experienced eye ran over the lines, analyzing a few modifications on this model that weren’t on a crate he’d picked up two shipments ago. “Come on, I want to fire this thing.”

This time, Hux indulged himself and rolled his eyes. The man was easily plied with toys. He opened the door to the range, stepping in and going over to one of the stations. Once they were both standing before the range, he looked over at Ben with his eyebrows up. “Do you want some instruction?”

“Is there a secret to this I don’t know, or should I be able to figure it out?” Ben stepped up to the station next to Hux then peered down the long row. Even the range was huge, and he tried to imagine it with a full complement of stormtroopers. He lifted the blaster rifle and paused appreciatively; it was lighter than he’d expected.

Hux shrugged, glancing over at Ben. “It’s got some kick; it’s small but it’s still a rifle,” he said as he began to disassemble his weapon, placing every part on the station and examining it. It was easy, methodological and practiced. He could do this blindfolded, in his sleep, with one hand behind his back. “Use both hands, shooting from the hip will throw your aim.”

Ben watched Hux, and it was impossible not to recognize a soldier’s hands. The gun came apart for him as though he didn’t even have to touch it. He remembered, suddenly, without wanting to, building his lightsaber, the practice one, before he’d been given the one that someone before him had built…

“Anything else I should know?” Ben asked, looking down to take apart his own weapon. It wasn’t hugely different in construction from other guns, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use the Force to help him find the pieces and help them separate from one another. He laid them out and looked over at Hux again.

The general observed Ben after he finished disassembling his own rifle, watching him figure out the mechanics quickly, the parts popping off without Ben even touching the right places. It seemed like cheating, almost, and Hux bristled. You had to know your weapon, had to understand it. He logically knew that using the Force to take it apart wasn’t really going to take away from the skill required to use the blaster, but still something in him rebelled.

“It’s still just a gun,” Hux said quietly, turning back to his own station and putting the gun back together. Even the most seasoned stormtrooper would have admired the way that the blaster seemed to pull itself together under Arrik’s hands. “Point, breathe, shoot.”

Ben scoffed, putting the gun back together quicker than he should have been able to for the first time. He looked over at Hux and raised his eyebrows almost challengingly.

“I know how to shoot a gun.”

“You’ve certainly said so,” Hux said mildly, raising the rifle with both hands and looking down the twenty yards to where the target hung with forty empty yards of range still behind it. Ben smiled to himself and raised his own, finding the most comfortable grip. He was a good shot, his smuggler father had made sure of that. He was an excellent shot; his Force-sensitive mother had made sure of that.

“No using the Force,” Hux muttered as an afterthought. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

He took a deep breath, eyes narrowing on the target. He let off a string of five shots in quick succession, and when he put the blaster down, there were dark singe marks through the entire target. Two to the head, two through the heart and another in the center of the target’s chest. Ben made a quiet noise to himself, not for Hux’s benefit. He’d already seen the way the man shot; he had no misconceptions about his ability. Nodding, he raised his own rifle. He fired off a test shot and, satisfied that it was clean, copied Hux’s pattern almost exactly. He grinned as he stepped back, looking over at the general.

“No Force necessary.”

Hux shrugged, activating the small datapad on the station.

“Not bad.” He pressed one of the buttons and both of their targets were replaced by fresh ones, and their results flashed on the datapads in front of them. “For a practice round.”

The targets’ mech whirred, and the targets slid back to thirty yards.

Hux lifted his blaster, paused for a few seconds and shot again, five rounds, and the precision was exact. The same five singe marks, the same five kill shots. The blasters went through the target neatly, dissipating harmlessly on the back wall. Hux hadn’t exaggerated; he spent hours at this station, in this range, shooting into targets over and over. Ben’s experience was more practical, but he again matched Hux, shot for shot, using the general’s target as a pattern to copy before waiting for him to call for fresh ones. He shot his grin at the other man between rounds of shooting blaster bolts.

Hux silently glanced at the datapad mounted by the station. Ben’s shots matched his almost exactly. Frustrating. He nodded once, and swiped on the small screen for the targets to reset, this time at forty five yards. These guns had a range of three hundred, but nobody expected precision from this sort of wide-bore laser. Ben chuckled when the new targets reset a little further down the rows. Was it personal? It was starting to feel a bit personal. He waited, eyes on Hux’s target but the rest of his senses honed on the man beside him.

Raising his laser, Hux took a deep breath. Holding the gun with both hands, he sighted the target down the range. This was something he had worked at. It wasn’t just a mental exercise where he sat and schemed and planned; this was the culmination of hours of practice, years of it. His marksmanship was something that he was proud of, one of the few traditional infantry skills he had taken and honed to a wicked point.

And Ben was doing the _exact same thing_.

He shot again, and the spread changed. One blast through each shoulder, one through the head, and two in the center of the chest. He lowered his gun, looking over at Ben with his jaw set.

Ben didn’t even look over at Hux, though he felt his eyes on him. The only gesture he made to show he knew the other man was watching him was to slowly draw his hand through his hair before raising the rifle again. His shots were just as precise, just as mirrored as both sets before had been. This sort of thing was fun for him, a challenge that he accepted with his shoulders and hips relaxed as he lowered the gun again.

“Go on, push ‘em back again,” he said, turning to look at Hux with a smile.

The general glared at Ben for a second before he sent the targets back, this time they were pressed against the back of the dissipation wall, sixty yards away. The targets were incredibly small against the large black tiles, and Hux didn’t respond to Ben before he snapped off six shots. The results flicked on both their stations. Three headshots in a tight spray, and three to the upper chest. Ben made a humming noise to himself, then made the shots he had just watched. Three headshots, four to the chest. He laughed as he lowered the gun, looking at the smoking target ahead of him. His shots were incredibly close together in their clusters; the distance seemed to have even improved his aim.

“Sorry,” he said easily, not sounding sorry at all. “Six is such an unlucky number! I couldn’t leave it.”

Again, Hux didn’t say anything, but after a moment he made a short noise, and the targets disappeared when he tapped the screen. He looked over at Ben, and he would only admit that he held the slightest bit of anger .

“Why don’t you take their place?”

Ben raised his eyebrows, not replying for a minute.

“Are you...telling me to walk over there and let you take potshots at me? To see how well you cluster bolts in my chest? That doesn’t seem like a brilliant move on my part.” He laughed. “You said no Force. I’m slightly hungover, not suicidal.”

Hux shrugged, still not looking away from Ben.

“If you can’t do it, that’s fine,” he said, voice cold and distant. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect too much of you after the night you had.” He knew by now how Ben’s expression would darken.

“After your night, maybe I don’t entirely trust your aim.” Ben shrugged, tossing the rifle down. “Fine. Let’s see what you actually have. How close should I stand to give you a fair chance?” He hopped over the gate, ignoring the flashing warning on every screen down the line of stations.

Hux raised his gun, holding it casually with one hand. The muzzle followed Ben, trained on him.

“Just as long as you feel challenged.”

“You’d have to be a mile away,” Ben laughed back at Hux over his shoulder, continuing to walk down the row. His black clothes blended into the tiled room. “Which of these surfaces is safe to deflect to?” he asked, looking around. He remembered training at the temple, the low-level pulses aimed at him while he blocked and deflected them back at targets (Rey’s angry voice: “Not at _me_ , Ben!”).

“Five of them,” Hux said, gun still trained on Ben. He shot a blast over Ben’s shoulder, tilting his head up. “That’s enough. Wouldn’t want you to have too much warning.” The smuggler glanced back behind him as though to watch the actual impact the bolt had on the wall, then looked back to where Hux was standing in the stall, lit strangely. He seemed unnatural there, ghostly. Ben squared his shoulders and changed his stance.

“You’re easy to predict,” he said, pushing his weight down into his heels to ground himself. He supposed his training started now, even if Hux didn’t know it. “A lightsaber would make this easier.” He rolled his shoulders, hands loose by his sides.

“I have a limited number of targets,” Hux said, watching Ben settle before shooting at him three times, without hesitation. He was aiming for the man’s heart.

Ben’s hands came up as Hux pulled the trigger, and it was a more panicked gesture than he’d anticipated. Facing the bolts weaponless felt different than his practice with a lightsaber, or even when he’d done this with one hand and his own blaster in the other. He didn’t particularly like the vulnerability. The bolts were closer than he was comfortable with when his gesture sent all three of them off toward the far corner on his right side. He raised his chin, keeping his eyes on Hux. He needed to feel the man out as much as anticipate the shots.

Hux’s mouth pulled into a tight, small smile, pleased by the reaction. He didn’t expect it to happen a second time, and he was sure that once Ben realized that there was nothing in between him and the shooting station, he might start to feel more comfortable. Hux was leaving himself open to any kind of attack that Ben might figure out, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Ben couldn’t just throw the beam back at him.

He took a deep breath and shot again, three shots; head, heart, hand.This time, Ben alternated hands to ward off the blaster bolts, sending them off in different directions with more controlled motions. His stance changed again, spreading his legs slightly for a different sort of stability as he moved. He was learning the rhythm of Hux’s shots, the timing of the rifle, the acoustics of the room.

He had the time to flash a bright smile at Hux as he crooked his finger at him. Come on, he murmured without saying anything and it dimly sounded in the room.

Even with the sounds of the lasers dissipating harmlessly along the tiles of the room, Hux felt much better. Ben Solo was more than capable of holding his own, even weaponless, with just his ‘magical’ Force at his hands. It was still satisfying to watch him in danger.

Hux tilted his head to the side slightly, not looking away from Ben for a second. He shot three blasts off without adjusting his aim, the spread tight on Ben’s chest. This time Ben turned his body to angle himself away from the blasts, a satisfied expression on his face when they dissipated on the wall behind him as he faced Hux again. He hadn’t done anything like this in so long, just let himself be challenged, let himself draw the Force through his whole body, let himself move with it. This was neither dark nor light; it just was, and he felt it so strongly.

Hux considered Ben for a moment and then shifted to hold the weapon with both hands, steadying his grip. He shot at Ben again, six shots in rapid succession, alternating head and chest shots. Ben responded to the increased speed, setting one foot back as an extra brace to adjust to his changed response. He pushed forward with the heels of his hands, alternating as he shoved the shots away from himself. He stepped forward with the last one, reversing its momentum and sending it back to its origin with a slight tilt. The bolt screamed over Hux’s shoulder and finished in the wall behind him.

There it was, and the general was sure that it dawned on Ben that he could hurt Hux significantly more than Hux was playing at now. He didn’t move, the smoke from the wall behind him acrid and distracting.

Taking another deep breath, Hux let himself settle into his own stance, completely focused on the man in front of him as he fired again. It was the same spray, with a final seventh shot at Ben’s leg. Ben’s defense style continued to adapt; he was no longer just casting the shots away from him. The deflections were deliberate and rhythmic, and his own movements had become fluid as his anticipation of the bolts moved him through each volley.

“Again!” he shouted in a rough voice, both hands raised as he looked back to the general.

It was surprising and thrilling. Hux could watch this man fight like this, with his hands, with his movements and his mind, for hours. It seemed like Ben’s bearing had changed, his shoulders turned in a way that was more like a Jedi’s in an old holovid, sloped and attentive.

Hux was more than happy to oblige Ben, keeping his footing steady as he fired at him again. He continued to fire at a rapid clip, barely adjusting his aim; head, head, chest, leg, chest, head, leg. The more complex the pattern became, the better Ben got. He ducked one shot, then immediately deflected the next to skitter harmlessly along the floor. There wasn’t the intense concentration that defined most martial arts. He had opened himself up to the power that showed him air currents and thought patterns; his breathing was slow and steady and he actually smiled when he felt the heat of one of the bolts by his face as he stepped away from it before corralling it back toward his beckoning hand. The muscles in his arm tensed as he pushed it away from him, back at Hux’s face, then held it there, a hand’s breadth from his cheek. More effective than a flaming glass of liquor, perhaps.

Hux stopped firing as the last bolt was held in place, frozen in the air, hissing and sizzling dangerously. The concentrated photons were enough to burn through even body armor. The blast moved slowly towards him, and Ben held it there as Hux’s eyes flicked from the smuggler to the bright blue cackling ions hovering near his cheek.

There was that danger, the imminent threat, and Hux lowered his gun slowly. His heart rate spiked and his eyes were getting larger despite his desire to exert supreme control over his emotions. He set his jaw, but did not flinch, tensely waiting for Ben. This was new, exciting; a singular game between the two of them.

All Ben wanted was that sharp intake of breath, Hux’s eyes widening because of him. He pulled his hand up and the bolt crashed into the ceiling.

“Are you slowing down?” he shouted back to the firing station. He rolled his shoulders, not taking his eyes from Hux’s face, which he hadn’t managed to smooth into its normal disinterested expression just yet.

Hux took a deep breath, schooling his face when he saw Ben still watching him. He shrugged, tilting his head up.

“I thought you were getting tired,” he called out, raising his gun again. “Maybe you need to stop for a drink?”

“If I was tired,” Ben growled, “You wouldn’t be standing. Fire!”

Hux smirked, pulling the blaster back up and shooting at Ben again, not at all keeping to any pattern. He alternated between tightly bound clusters of shots and sprays along the other man’s body. None were hitting him, but Hux hadn’t really expected them to. It was enough to watch Ben fight against him. It had become a game, a chance for Ben to exercise more than muscles. His body remembered, wanted to remember, the things he’d put it through training with his uncle, the things that came even more naturally to him than to Luke, in some cases. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with less of a marksman than Hux had proven to be; he wouldn’t want a man afraid to kill him, right there on the range. This was exhilarating; it wasn’t just the adrenaline rush of a chase. This was the intimacy of battle.

Hux continued to shoot, not letting up. He changed the pace, the aim, but he didn’t once let his eyes leave Ben’s body. There was nothing stopping this. He was sure that if Ben didn’t catch a bolt, if he missed some cue, the man would be dead before he hit the ground.

“What is going on?” The angry command came sharply from the doorway and Hux dropped his weapon’s muzzle slightly, looking over at Phasma as she entered. It was common that they would practice together, and if she noticed a full bay was reserved, she would have had access to the ID code. Ben was stopped mid-movement, unable to see the woman who’d just walked in. He took a deep breath, hands going behind his back as though he was a child who’d been caught doing something he hadn’t been. Like Force-floating artifacts across the main hall of the temple. Not that he’d ever done that.

Hux cleared his throat, pushing his hair back and standing up straighter.

“Just a little practice, Captain,” he explained, tone light as the helmeted woman walked forward into the station bay. “Nothing to worry about.”

Ben took a few steps forward, raising his eyebrows. They’d been ignoring the flashing red warnings on the screen; the messages were silent and not as distracting to the two of them as they probably should have been. Now he caught the red reflection off Captain Phasma’s distinctive armor and nodded to himself. That was whose voice that was.

Phasma looked down the range, and her frown was almost visible through her helmet. Hux glanced over at Ben, then took a step back and offering the blaster to her.

“Take a shot,” he said, and it was almost an order, delivered with his chin raised. “He’s been effectively redirecting mine; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind showing off a bit more.”

Ben’s expression didn’t change; he just took a few steps back again and resumed his comfortable ready position.

“Go on, Captain. I promise you won’t kill me. Not on the first shot anyway.” It was half flirting, half pride, all challenge.

Phasma took the blaster from Hux easily, holding it up and staring through her helmet at Ben. Beside her, Hux shifted to lean against the station with his arms folded over his chest.

She fired without warning, five shots that mimicked Hux’s original spray exactly. Heart, head, chest. Her timing was different, but Ben had no trouble deflecting the shots away from himself. It wasn’t even a challenge; she shot like she was a training manual. His movements seemed relaxed and he actually looked over at Hux and shared a knowing smirk.

“Again, Captain. That won’t win wars.”

Hux didn’t respond to Ben, but when Phasma inclined her head slightly, he nodded. She lifted the gun again and shot another tight five-blast spray, and then continued to shoot, not breaking at all. Hux made a noise.

“Make your approach, Captain.”

Phasma didn’t hesitate. Holding the gun in her right hand, she placed her left on the countertop and vaulted over the small station to begin walking slowly towards Ben. Ben frowned slightly, standing his ground with his hands and mind ready. He hadn’t thought she could move so nimbly in that big suit of chrome armor. Any other doubts he had disappeared when she raised her weapon. He realized very abruptly that she would obey her general in everything.

Phasma continued to walk forward, shooting steadily at Ben. As she got closer, Hux almost smiled.

“Halt,” he called out, and she stopped instantly, not lowering her weapon. She stood there, the blaster raised at Ben’s chest, less than ten feet away. Ben had one hand out, breathing a little heavier, stance slightly lower than it had been. This wasn’t some easy trick; that many shots fired directly at him was like being attacked by a very talented firing squad. He flicked his eyes from her helmet to Hux’s face where he still stood at the station. The general’s face was highlighted in red every time the warning on the screen flashed.

Hux was watching Ben carefully, seeing him standing there with his hands up, his shoulders sliding under his First Order shirt. He made a noise, calling out to Phasma again.

“I think that’s enough.”

Phasma didn’t hesitate, she dropped her arm and turned away from Ben to walk back to the bay. “What was the point of that?”

Ben swallowed when she turned away from him, his own thoughts echoed in her cool question.

“Well I enjoyed the show,” Hux replied, still smirking at Ben as Phasma lifted herself over the counter easily. “What did you think?”

Phasma hummed behind her helmet, looking down the range at Ben. The smuggler raised his chin slightly, starting to walk back to the firing stalls toward them. He didn’t walk quickly, just let himself move in the truth of the tiredness that wasn’t really his muscles and the flow that came from actually letting himself do what came naturally to him.

“Wish we had twenty of him,” Phasma said, passing the blaster back to Hux. He smiled to himself, putting it on the station. “Are you done setting off alarms?”

Ben leaned on the counter, looking between them.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked. It was strange, the way they talked about him while he was standing right there.

Hux picked up the blaster, setting the muzzle against Ben’s shoulder.

“Could you stop this?” he asked lightly, raising his pale eyebrows.

Phasma didn’t make a move to stop Hux, and in the moment of silence that surrounded them, the general pressed the barrel harder against Ben’s collarbone. Ben took a deep breath, not stepping back or changing his expression.

“A blaster bolt at that range would blow my shoulder apart,” he said quietly. “But I could stop you before you pulled the trigger.”

“How would you do it?” Hux asked, tilting his head slightly, not moving the gun away. “Tell me.”

“I could shove you into the wall. I could just stop your finger from moving. I could pull this stall down on you.” Ben shrugged the shoulder Hux held the gun against, keeping their eyes locked.

Hux nodded, and he didn’t move for another few seconds. He took a step back, putting the gun on the station and looking over at Phasma.

“We’re leaving.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Phasma said, shaking her head and heading toward the exit of the small bay. 

“We'll practice another time, Captain,” Hux said, calling over his shoulder as she left. Phasma had more to do during her day than babysit an officer and his pet project. He looked over at Ben, shrugging. “I’ve had enough.”

Ben nodded, hopping over the gate with an easy jump.

“You would shoot me, wouldn’t you? If you gained something from it.” Ben didn’t say it as an accusation, just a fact.

Hux gathered up the two guns, walking out of the shooting bay and logging the two blasters back into the armory. He looked back over at Ben, pushing his hand through his hair.

“I would,” Hux said indifferently, turning back to the smuggler. There were a lot of variables to that response. _Only if I had to, only if there wasn’t another way to get what I wanted, I would at least try to hit something non-vital,_ but that didn’t matter. The answer was simple, he would shoot Ben if he stood to benefit.

The confirmation didn’t surprise Ben. Strangely enough, it gave him a short pang of excitement. He hadn’t felt as alive as he had facing down Hux’s ice stare and the blaster bolts in a long time. The smile he faced the general with now was not the crooked smile he had planned it to be, that perfectly crafted expression of nonchalance and indolence. This smile was slightly feral, and somehow more genuine.

Ben’s smile made Hux pause for a second, his eyes flicking over the smuggler quickly before he turned away. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he left the bay.

“I can’t wait.” Ben stepped up behind Hux as the other man led the way out of the room, then next to him when they were in the hallway.

“I scheduled another half hour of time, but I think I should keep working to catch up on the backlog of reports,” Hux said, frowning slightly. “Supreme Leader Snoke will be speaking with us again tomorrow. I’m not sure if you need to do anything to prepare for that.”

Ben shrugged, keeping his thoughts about that to himself. How did one prepare for that?

“With us? Both of us.” He frowned, remembering Hux’s face turned away when the Supreme Leader had pushed against them both with the force of his will. “Why do you need to be there?”

“You can ask him,” Hux responded, shrugging. He reached up to neaten his hair as they walked through the gym level. Ben stretched his arms over his head as they headed back to the tram, grabbing onto one wrist at a time and pulling to the side.

“I was asking you. You just like to be involved in everything, huh?” He wanted to clean up. He was hungry again. He wanted that feeling of Hux pointing the rifle at him again.

“Responsibility comes with rank,” Hux said, shrugging as he glanced around again. “We don’t have any lightsabers lying around, but there are some sparring rings where hand to hand weapons are available. ”

“Are you offering yourself as a partner?” Ben asked, looking Hux over. He had been impressive with a blaster, but he couldn’t picture him fighting hand to hand.

“A sparring partner? No, I’ll pass. Phasma is better suited.”

Ben thought of the tall captain advancing on him steadily, firing shot after unerring shot at him. On the general’s murmured command.

“Would you come to watch?” he asked, looking over at Hux again.

“If I could find time in my schedule,” Hux said, glancing over at him. “I’ll send you her code. If she’s not too busy, I’m sure she’d like to get her hands on you.”

“Oh yeah? I wasn’t sure I was her type.” Ben laughed a little, settling back into the way he was supposed to be. The way he was pretty sure he was still supposed to be. “If you’re going to work, I think I’m going to head over to the sim rooms.”

“I’m...almost sure you’re nowhere near her _type_ ,” Hux said scathingly, rolling his eyes.

“So, now you’ve got me curious. What is her type? Am I too tall? Does she like gingers?” Ben laughed as they walked.

“Frankly, I’ve never asked her.” Hux walked through the level, his hands clasped behind his back. Another pair of stormtroopers approaching from the other end of the hallway went quiet as they passed. “She rarely takes to people on a personal level.”

“Not even you? I can’t imagine someone not connecting with you on a personal level.” Ben snorted as they got into the tram. “Wait...do I want to be on here? Sim level...where am I going?”

“You’ll get off before I do,” Hux said as the door closed. He ignored the jibe, pretending he hadn’t heard Ben at all. “Do you know your way back?”

“I can figure it out,” Ben said almost sulkily. He felt like he was coming down from something, a drop from the adrenaline of earlier. He took a deep breath, then let it all out.

“You can use your cylinder to message me from any of the datapads at the sim rooms,” Hux said as the tram slowed. “When will I get to have your chaka noodles?”

The question was unexpected and Ben laughed loudly. “Well, I have plans tonight.” Obviously, he didn’t. “But hey, after our big meeting tomorrow night, let’s have those noodles.” The last time they’d planned it, it had ended disastrously. Ben needed to prove that he controlled what happened in his own rooms.

“At your leisure,” Hux said as the tram sped up again. He gestured slightly. “You can get off at the next stop.” Ben nodded and pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against, more comfortable with the tram’s movements now.

“Have fun running the ship,” he said, looking back to Hux and smiling. “And you might want to log a couple more hours at the range, sweet cheeks. You can’t even hit an unarmed man.” He looked down at the scuffed toes of his boots, still grinning as the tram slowed and the door opened. “See you.”

Hux shook his head, but let Ben have the last word as he left the tram. He took a deep breath, looking upwards. Ben Solo was proving to be a challenge, but he wouldn’t back down. It was a game he was happy to play, considering how much he had to gain from this. Ben had potential, and Hux was determined to take advantage of all of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all your comments are so nice! thanks everyone! enjoy this chapter.

As the weeks marched forward, the _Finalizer_ didn’t change its schedule for its guest, but Ben made little adjustments to make a place for himself on the ship. He didn’t wait for anyone to call for him; he reserved rooms to practice shooting, flying, sparring. Phasma proved to be a good partner, when she had the time. She fought him as though he was actually an enemy. She didn’t talk much, even when Ben tried to engage her, and in turn it made him a bit quieter. He still had a lot to say, but he saved it all to just murmur aloud in his berth at the end of the night.

His meetings with Supreme Leader Snoke continued, and each time he pushed some limit that had been placed on his abilities, either by himself or someone acting ‘for his own good.’ Every meeting saw General Hux in attendance, and it was disturbing to let the General see him crumble. Ben wasn’t a trustful person by nature; it was a difficult thing, to let Snoke into his head willingly, even as he knew the sentient had been there before, for nearly his whole life. It was always so familiar, and he learned so much about the dark side of his own power, but every single time, dropping his defenses shattered a part of him that he’d carefully built up. But every single time, he could feel Hux standing beside him, slightly to the left, his own mental walls straining against the power in the room. Ben remembered the glimpse he’d had of Arrik’s memories, the intense fear of revealing them, even to himself, and he let the long, harsh fingers of the Supreme Leader’s will impose themselves on his mind when he let his own defenses drop. It went against everything in him to see a fighter press an advantage against a weaponless man. In this war of wills, which Hux wasn’t even really involved in, the general was without hope of a weapon.

Ben walked out of every meeting with his anger germinating at his core, and shame at the way he had to fold before a will he knew he could withstand longer. Snoke was a teacher, not his master. Not yet. But the part of him that was still a Jedi couldn’t let Hux suffer behind him. He would have happily punched the ginger officer in the face, but he couldn’t let him endure that sort of pain.

He looked over at Hux with habitual annoyance as they walked to the hall. The general didn’t look crisper for these meetings with the Supreme Leader; he always looked sharp enough to cut glass. Ben had cleaned up after a sim session, changing into the sleek black clothes that didn’t feel like his but were not as strange as they had been. Each piece had a First Order insignia stitched on it somewhere in silver and red. He didn’t bother telling himself he was going to remove them anymore.

“Honestly, general, you don’t have to show up. Your Supreme Leader doesn’t need to see your face when it’s me he wants to talk to,” he said while he waited for Hux to unlock the door. There were still places on the ship where he didn’t have access.

If these meetings had any adverse effect on Arrik, he didn’t let it show. To him, these were minor inconveniences, something that he had to attend as a perfunctory measure. Snoke always had some kind of order or directive, and it was good to make sure that the Supreme Leader knew he was still working on the small problem of Ben Solo.

He slid his pad into the dock and scanned his cylinder, looking over at Ben as the doors opened.

“If the Supreme Leader doesn’t find my presence acceptable then he wouldn’t continue to invite me to attend,” he snapped, his guards and defences already building up in anticipation of what was about to happen. Ben rolled his eyes expressively as he walked in behind the general.

“You don’t need to be here,” he muttered to himself as they walked up the center walkway toward the holopad. They were there exactly on time; Hux made sure of that, each and every session.

Hux made a noise of disagreement as they walked in, brows drawn down. “I’m not the one who decides that.” He stopped in front of the holopad, and behind them the doors slid shut. Even if the temperature drop was just another Force trick, Ben could do with putting on another layer. These meetings always brought every single one of Ben’s annoying behaviors to the forefront of his mind. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, eyes forward. On the other hand, Ben’s shoulders rounded slightly as he stepped up beside Hux, already unconsciously making himself just that little bit smaller before the expanded vision of Hux’s leader sprang up, pale and ghostly with translucent light. It was his hands Ben always focused on first before raising his eyes to Snoke’s scarred face. As always, he wondered what could cause a wound like that and how it wouldn’t be fatal.

“Ben Solo,” the Supreme Leader intoned. He always used his full name, as though to remind him constantly who he was. “General Hux.”

Ben nodded to him, the flippancy of several weeks ago gone. Hux inclined his head, keeping his eyes on the sentient’s face.

“I was thinking for this session, the general doesn’t have to be here. I mean, he’s got to be busy...ironing his gloves or whatever,” Ben said by way of greeting. The flippancy reserved for Hux remained.

Hux frowned, looking over at Ben. It wasn’t his place to demand things of Snoke when they were so trivial and didn’t even concern him. He was there because Snoke asked him to be there, that should be enough for Ben.

“I have orders for the general. He should remain.” Snoke’s voice was emotionless, or rather, held the same emotion it always did. Ben had never seen him angry, only mildly pleased. At least, that’s how he read the leader’s tone. He watched Snoke’s large eyes turn toward Hux and exhaled slowly.

“Report on the weapon, General. Your last missive spoke of some difficulties.”

“There have been some issues with the core stabilization, but our science and tech team has come up with a solution. It will require a month of testing and two months of reconfiguring before we start on the final recalibrations,” Hux reported clearly, tilting his head up. “Our teams have readjusted the orbital shiver, and it will not impact the use of the weapon.”

“Good, good,” Snoke almost purred, and it was a wash of praise over the general. Hux almost smirked, immensely satisfied by the slight affirmation. Ben could feel it from where he was standing. He also felt a spike of jealousy as it passed him by. “Continue to send me updates. Do you have anything further to report?”

“There have been some issues in the Jumil-Ran system, in the southeastern quadrant, and food deliveries have been delayed. However, we are meeting with representatives of the farm corporation and will reach an agreement soon. I will supervise via holovid. The miners’ strike on Xashaas has not impacted production, and we are expanding our unearthing tech to make hands-on sentient digging unnecessary,” Hux continued, going through the checklist of major problems he had encountered over the last week. “The southeastern fleet encountered Resistance fighters while doing a routine pass through the Deymarsh system. General Neimar will send along a full report, but it appears that there were few casualties and we have half a dozen hostages aboard the Indomitable.”

“And the most recent graduates of the academy?” Snoke inquired, leaning forward slightly.

“They are beginning tertiary officer’s exams. I will evaluate the leading men and women in person. We expect to be at Arkanis within six weeks.”

“Excellent.” Snoke turned his attention back to Ben, who stepped forward. “You have been practicing what you’ve learned. I can sense it.”

“Yes, Su-...sir.” Ben nodded quickly. “As you said, it is still training, but it’s not...difficult.” He couldn’t put into words what it was like, drawing on the dark side of the Force. Often he felt like his limbs were weaker after he’d spent time training, but even this was lessening with time.

“When you are here with me, Ben Solo, you will find it even more fulfilling.” Snoke stretched his fingers out, but Ben wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. “Tell me, what do you want to do next?”

“Well…” Ben licked his lips and shrugged. “Honestly, I’d still like to get out in one of those TIEs. Not just the sim pods, but a real one.”

“General?” Snoke sounded amused. It was like offering a carrot before a beast of burden, and Ben realized it a moment later. He set his jaw and made sure not to look back to Hux.

Hux looked from Snoke to Ben, and his face was impassive. He nodded once, looking back up at Snoke.

“I’ll reduce the requirements for TIE access. He has just under forty hours in the sim pods; when he gets to sixty, I’ll send him to Visenya for a trial run, and the lieutenant will send a recommendation regarding Ben’s capabilities.” Hux was being generous, and he wanted Ben to know it. The First Order usually required double those hours for prospective pilots, and a rigorous written and practical exam. Ben set his jaw, keeping his eyes forward. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

“I’m not looking to pilot for the Order,” he said after a beat. “I just want a couple hours out in the thing.” He didn’t like being spoken about like this, with accommodations being made for him as though he couldn’t take the things he wanted. Hux glanced over at him, but didn’t respond, looking back up at Snoke.

“I’m sure it can be arranged. You have a love of flying. Like your grandfather, correct?” Snoke asked questions he knew the answers to just to make his listener agree. Ben shrugged and nodded.

“Obviously I didn’t know him, but yeah, I’ve heard that.” He didn’t say the next thing that came to his mouth. His mother always said he liked flying like his uncle, like his father. His grandfather never came into the equation. Ben also knew what the mention of Darth Vader meant. Every one of these sessions ended with this. The muscles on either side of his spine tightened. Beside him, Hux took a deep breath, setting his jaw.

“So like him.” Snoke’s voice was impossibly distant and simultaneously too close. There was the sensation of a drop in the large room, the feeling that the floor suddenly existed several inches lower. “Show me what you’ve been working on, Ben Solo.”

“You know already.” The defenses in his head went up immediately. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this, those long cold spectral fingers in his head, drawing up all the things he’d pushed down and made himself forget, anger over a thousand small and large injustices. It made him feel sick, even as it made him feel stronger. “I told you.” By his side, his right fist opened as though he could control the pressure growing in the room.

“Show me.”

Every time this happened Hux felt the pressure so keenly. He tried to strengthen his defences, tried to research how to counteract this, but it was impossible for him. He was not a Force user, and there was only so much even a strong-willed mind could do against this sort of attack. He would just bear it. His head lowered slightly, and he started taking deep breaths while focusing on a small crack in the tiles across the room. He glared through the holo of Snoke to focus on a very real, very individual detail.

Ben kept his eyes up, drawing up all the anger that had been stirred in earlier sessions, his hateful determination that he would not let this happen again. His mind was his own. As he expanded his own will, he felt Hux’s determination behind him. His open palm pushed forward, giving him a physical focus as he fought to keep himself intact, his mind walled off. The room had chilled considerably, and he could see every time he exhaled, could see the almost thin stream of pale air he breathed out. The pressure had become almost physical, the room’s atmosphere cold and dark and the air too heavy as it pressed down on them, through them. Instinctively, Ben turned his heels out slightly to give himself a better fighting stance as he brought his hand up so agonizingly slowly.

He didn’t see the crack in the dark tiles that Hux was focused on, but he was acutely aware of the moment the crack appeared in the general’s defenses.

Hux’s breathing was strained, and he shook his head as the pressure kept building. His defenses were crumbling, and it seemed to him that Snoke simply got stronger, that he knew more, that he could find the subtle dimples and weak spots easier with every meeting. Ben felt it, felt the solidity of his own mental walls opposed to the shifting and imminent collapse of Hux’s. Fear. Intense fear. It felt sharp, but jagged where it fell against him. He heard himself make a noise, a soft gasp. His hand closed as he dropped it to his side, closing his eyes as he let Snoke in.

The pressure in the general’s mind alleviated, and it seemed to come swiftly. It felt as if he had been pushed down, and his mind flashed to the image of him and Ben in the alley on Tyrakos. He could even smell the blast against the wall behind him. Hux blinked hard, trying to clear his mind, pulling away from Snoke to look over at Ben. The Supreme Leader learned fast, but so did the general.

It was an onslaught of cold in Ben’s head, feeling the choking anger at the situation before the rest of it bubbled up, thick and tarry. Stupid, simple memories, crying for his mother through a fever, but she couldn’t come, a committee she’d served on had had to travel to gather support for a proposal about the harvest conditions on some planet he couldn’t care about. His pride at controlling one of the predatory animals as he wandered outside the temple walls, making it stalk its prey at his command before the sharp reprimand and punishment from his uncle Luke. Looking at holovids from the old Republic archives and trying to find his face in Anakin Skywalker’s and the shame, always the shame when he heard his parents whispering and knew it was about him. He felt tears on his cheeks, and wasn’t sure if that was now or if that was then, and if it was the past, which past was it?

Hux was breathing harder, but he was focusing. It was hard, almost impossible, but he could see Ben, could see him, and it hit the general suddenly, in a flash of anger and shame, what was happening. He pushed it all down, focused on the anger, hunched his shoulders and set his jaw as he waited for Snoke and Ben to finish their foreplay. The pressure was still on him, still hung around his shoulders like a mantle, but it wasn’t as crippling; even so, standing on his own was taking all of his concentration.

When Snoke withdrew from his head, Ben took a step forward to steady himself. He was out of breath; he felt a deep ache between his shoulder blades. He raised his eyes to see Snoke smiling slightly, or moving his face into the twisted grimace that passed for a smile. He felt like his entire body was made of pain and rage, and he knew that the Supreme Leader was pleased. Pleased with what he’d found, pleased with how Ben had grown already under his tutelage, pleased that he was so easy to use, so easy to move. That was what brought the color back to Ben’s cheeks. He was so much stronger; he could have brought the room crashing down onto them before he’d given in.

If he’d been alone in the hall, he could have.

“You’ve done well, Ben Solo,” the Supreme Leader said in his hollow voice above their heads. Even through his anger, the smuggler felt eager to hear him say it again. “Very well. I look forward to our next meeting.” Just like that, they were dismissed. Ben heard himself breathing in the still room. His forehead felt like a sharp piece of metal was being stabbed into it, just above his left eye. He swallowed and turned to leave the hall, not caring if Hux followed him. He couldn’t do this again. He wouldn’t. He was going to go back to his berth and he was going to go back to that forgotten foraged piece of junk on his workbench. He was going to free it, he was going to clean it, and he was going to get the hells away from here, if he had to steal a ship to do it.

Limits within limits, surrendering more than he ever had before. He couldn’t do it again.

Hux was furious. He knew, he suddenly knew why Ben had been so insistent he leave during the meeting, knew why Snoke wasted his time asking after two-bit reports that he could have sent any other way. (They kept it vague in front of Ben, and Hux knew it wasn’t to pique his curiosity or entice him further.) It wasn’t because Snoke wanted him there, he didn’t want to show him anything or prove something to Ben.

It was a game, a tactic, and he had been too blind and too proud to see it. Snoke must have seen this happening from the very first meeting with Ben, and Hux felt himself consumed with fury, beating back the shame of it all with a focused intensity.

He scanned his cylinder to lock the hall, took his datapad and continued to follow Ben through the level to the lift, seething the entire time.

Ben was silent, all the raw memories Snoke had roused shredding his calm and his self-control. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t know what would come out if he opened his mouth. Maybe he’d curse or scream or start crying. Maybe he’d just shatter apart, falling down into a thousand pieces on the floor.

The two men walked silently through the officers’ level, Hux’s rage condensed down into a cold fury. He was focused, sharp as a sword, and he knew that this could not continue. He wouldn’t allow it. By the time they’d gotten to the foyer of the commanders’ berths, Ben knew he needed to get away from Hux. He needed to be away from everyone; he was safest alone. Without even nodding to the other man, he walked toward his own door.

Hux was not so inattentive.

As soon as Ben turned away, Hux followed. He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and, using a move he learned from Phasma, spun him around, pinning him against the door to his berth. The general’s forearm was pressed against Ben’s chest, hand on the smuggler’s shoulder, elbow under his collarbone. He was so close to Ben that their faces were centimeters apart. He slotted his leg in between Ben’s, placing them in a position where every inch of Arrik Hux’s body was held over Ben.

“You will not,” Hux hissed, his face contorting into something very different from the calculated mask he held onto constantly. There were two spots of color high on his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed, glacial and vicious. “You will not turn me into your weakness.”

Ben swallowed and his throat felt coated with something thick. He breathed harshly through his nose, chest pushing against Hux’s arm as though just that would throw the other man off. Meeting Hux’s ice eyes, he felt the exhaustion slough off his body and he was just made up of all the anger and resentment and pain. He made no move to push the general away from himself; instead, he drew everything in on them, his own pressure in a bubble around their bodies, pulling Hux down against him.

“It’s your own weakness,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You’ll be laid bare.”

Hux grunted low in his throat as he felt the pull from Ben, but he kept his arm steady, his body rigid.

“Then let me,” Hux growled, lifting his free hand to pull on Ben’s hair, dragging his head back. He was still furious, and he let his emotions drive him. “If I am weak, let me break. I will not be leverage for your games.”

Ben grit his teeth against it all, Hux’s hand in his hair, his thigh between his legs, the jabbing pain in his head, the violation in his mind, and then this- this!- the ingratitude of this man who he’d saved over and over again from being broken against the wall of Snoke’s power. He kept his eyes up, jaw forward, throat exposed. He didn’t try to pull away from Hux’s hold on him. He didn’t need to. He grabbed onto Hux’s side, fingers tight enough to bruise through the stiff material of his uniform.

“And when you do break, General, and I am the only one to witness it, remember that every single time you look into my eyes.” The lights in the room dimmed as Ben righted his head, using the increasing pain as he pulled against Hux’s fingers in his hair to fuel him. “Remember this moment. Because I will let you break.” It felt dirty to say it aloud, like the words were dingy in the air. To say it without flinching. Not I will hurt you, but I will not save you. Something that felt like glass shattered in his chest.

Hux didn’t move away, didn’t falter at the Force holding around him, pressing close to him. The glass in the room hummed as if it was vibrating. Ben didn’t look away from the other man’s eyes as he released the room; the lights slowly brightened again.

“Now. Let go of me. Or I’ll snap one of your hands.” His own voice surprised him; he heard it as though he was speaking in layers. The bottommost layer was made up of that darkness that was still bubbling up from the rift Snoke had clawed open somewhere inside him.

It was done, there was nothing more to say. Hux let go of Ben, pushing him backwards against the wall as he turned away from the other man. The general quickly scanned his cylinder and went into his berth, the doors sliding shut behind him as he left Ben.

In the solitude of his own rooms, Hux stormed into his private quarters, shedding his coat and uniform quickly. He found clean workout gear and changed immediately, sending a notification to the bridge that he was temporarily unavailable. He needed to shoot something. Ben, in his rooms, didn’t want to do anything. He walked over to his workbench, but couldn’t stand to touch anything. The idea of food made him gag; he didn’t even make it to the galley before he turned away, retching. Eventually he found himself under the pounding water of the shower, first as hot as he could stand, then as cold. When his legs would no longer support him, he knelt in the hard tub and just let the water, and consequence, fall down on his back.

Hux left the berths quickly; the last thing he wanted was to run into Ben by accident. He made his way to the gym floor and found an empty range, reserving the entire space for an hour. He didn’t waste time, signing out a standard rifle and lining up the targets across all five bays, setting up a training sim that would challenge him.

It took an hour and a half and two clips, but Hux finally wore himself out. A pair of troopers and a set of officers came into the range but quickly left when they saw the general. Hux made his way to his rooms, not feeling any better about being played, but at the very least feeling more in control of himself. The display earlier with Ben was graceless, showed too much of his hand, and he knew that it couldn’t happen again.

Over the next few days, Ben avoided the general as much as he could. Apart from a few accidental brushes in the main room of the commanders’ wing, the two didn’t even see one another though Ben, with his nerves raw and senses extended at all times, was aware of the general’s comings and goings. The smuggler (he still considered himself one, though he hadn’t been able to bring himself to work on the rusted parts still sitting on the workbench) spent the long hours of each cycle training himself in every way. His feet took him back to his rooms only when that was the last place they could drag him, when he was sweat-drenched and mind-numbed. He felt strong, but completely unmoored. He knew he was preparing to let part of himself die, a partial execution at a future unknown date.

He didn’t know when to expect the call. So he spent his days preparing, wearing the black First Order clothes that were plain and fit him because they stretched and molded to his body (they were clothes meant to fit everybody) as though they were his funeral attire and shroud at the same time.

As Ben was making no effort to seek out Hux, the general didn’t waste any time trying to ply him with flights or sims. He sent one message to Visenya regarding the lifted restrictions for Ben, and kept track of his schedule lazily, checking in on him with an absent minded curiosity. He saw that Ben spent most of his spare time in the gym level, and occasionally made it to the starfighter wing to spend time with the small battalion of pilot recruits. Hux felt a little pang of annoyance when he noticed Phasma and Ben spent time together, fighting in some corner of a gym. He pushed it down and continued to work.

The message from the Supreme Leader came while the officer was sleeping, and Hux forwarded it to Ben as soon as he read it. In ten hours they would be meeting Snoke. He didn’t add anything to the missive, but he started his day with a shot of strong caf and an hour on a treadmill in the gym.

Ben read the message on the datapad twice; the first time it seemed he’d forgotten how to make words make sense, the second time it made him exhale too quickly. He met Phasma at their usual time, logged his two sim hours without even noting the near perfection of his results, made his way to the gym to lift weights with his hands and then, when the room had cleared a bit more, with the Force, focusing himself as he moved the heavy pieces of metal in an orbit over his head while he stood in the center of his own universe.

Throughout the day, Hux checked in on Ben more than usual, driven by a mildly obsessive curiosity. He watched the man fight Phasma for a minute or two and then signed out to attend to the bridge. During a meeting he pulled Ben up again, watching him through the closed circuit feeds that went through most of the ship. He missed when Derr’wan asked him a question, focused as the way that Ben stood in the center of the gym, equipment and weights floating around him as if they were in the vacuum of space. Hux had ice in his eyes when Derr’wan repeated himself.

Instead of using the archives to poke through Imperial documents and collected writing on the Sith as he did most days, Ben exercised the strange allowances he had and reserved the firing range Hux had that day, weeks ago, when he’d taken such fierce delight in pointing a blaster at his chest and pulling the trigger. The system allowed it—the whole range was his. He knew he should clean up before the meeting. He knew he should eat. Instead, he vaulted one of the stall counters and walked to the center of the room before kneeling down. The room’s lighting was strange, lit around the edges but dimmer in the middle to compensate for the brightness of blaster bolts. He inhaled, exhaled slowly, then breathed in again as he leaned his head back. He tried to relax his hands on his thighs, but they were balled into tight fists he couldn’t seem to unclench.

If I do this thing. It wasn’t right in his head. He had to say it out loud.

“If I do this thing,” he said quietly, “I’ll be different. Something’s already...changed. I feel it.” He paused and licked his lips. “If you help me, I can do it. I heard you once. This is the fulfillment of that, right? If you help me, Grandfather, I can do it.”

He lapsed into silence then, just listening in the big empty room. He lost track of time while he waited.

The warning buzzer for the end of his reserved time sounded above his head and jerked him out of his meditation. Ben pushed himself to his feet, whipping his head around to look at the chronometer on the wall.

“Damn!” He had ten minutes to travel more than ten minutes’ worth of ship. He started running when he hit the door, passing by a group of stormtroopers heading in for their practice shots. The lift and the tram both seemed incredibly slow. He reminded himself to drop to a walk before he turned into the hallway before the locked door he still didn’t have access to. Of course Hux was already there. Perfectly pressed, combed, and punctual.

As if the general needed more stress right now. They were minutes away from their scheduled time and Ben was still not there. When the other man turned the corner, Hux’s eyes narrowed, and he glared as the man walked up.

“You’ve taken your time,” he muttered, sliding his pad into the reader and scanning his cylinder before leading the way into the hallway without any hesitation. Ben rolled his eyes as he followed him through the door, but he didn’t say anything. Not because he’d gained any restraint, but because he was still catching his breath.

The holopad was empty, and Ben let himself relax slightly. He was ready for this. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped up beside Hux to wait for the Supreme Leader’s form to flicker into existence.

Hux took a deep breath, tilting his head up.

“You are prepared?”

“I am. My promise to you still stands.” Ben pressed his mouth. “You could leave now. Claim you’re sick. I could break your ankle for you.”

The general pressed his mouth, shaking his head. “I know what I’m doing.” He looked over at Ben, eyebrows flicking up. He exuded conviction, the absolutism of a man who, in fact, didn’t know what was coming at all and had decided he would face it anyway. A stupid kind of bravery. “Do you?”

“Of course.” He met Hux’s eyes for a second and was afraid that his would show some of his own uncertainty; he looked away again quickly.

Hux frowned but didn’t say anything, and in front of them the giant form of the Supreme Leader flickered into life, leaning down slightly.

“Ben Solo, General Hux.” Snoke gestured with his fingers before leaning back, nodding. “We have a few things to discuss.”

Ben tightened his hands by his sides, knowing the unspoken schedule of these meetings. Now the Supreme Leader would ask Hux some vague question about some mysterious plan or some troops on a planet Ben had never heard of.

He wasn’t wrong—Snoke asked Hux about the military recruitment schedule, the mining systems, the way that the food distribution was being reworked. Standard, basic, rote information that Hux answered swiftly and efficiently, without any kind of unique inflection in his voice. Now that both he and Ben knew what was happening, he no longer felt as self important. He felt anger.

“It’s all going to plan, then,” Snoke murmured. He gestured and the temperature dropped slightly. “Very good.”

Hux nodded once, setting his jaw. Ben felt the change in the room before the air cooled and unconsciously shifted his posture.

Snoke made a noise, and the muscles on his scarred face shifted beneath his ruined skin. “Tell me, Ben Solo, how have you spent your time since I saw you last?”

“I’ve spent my time getting stronger, sir. There’s lots of ways to improve myself. Educate myself. Test my limits.” He raised his chin slightly. He knew how to use words when he wanted to. He knew that it wasn’t always taken well by a teacher to emphasize how you were teaching yourself. “I’ve gone deeper as well.”

“Deeper,” Snoke murmured as he leaned forward on the huge throne. “Tell me more.”

The Supreme Leader’s manipulation of the Force began to press in on them, rising like a tide, and Hux’s eyes fluttered closed, his breathing slowing as he focused on nothing at all. Ben blinked slowly, raising his own expanding power.

“I’ve been studying some of the old archived material about the Sith. The history I had before; the specific ritual I didn’t. I’ve used some of the things I’ve read while I’ve been training.” He pitched his voice so it would carry, but his tone was calm. “I’ve discovered it’s even easier to persuade others to do what I want them to do. I’m just starting to see what I can do.” Keeping his arms down, Ben spread his fingers, feeling the tightening in his fingers and up his wrists as he pulled the Force through himself. The holo projection and room lighting flickered as he interfered with the electricity that powered them.

Hux shifted slightly, staring at the same crack in the wall as he felt the Force move through the room. It was physical in here, something he could feel brushing along his arms and the back of his neck.

“What have you done?” Snoke asked, his voice raising slightly. Hux took a deep breath, ducking his head slightly but maintaining his focus on the wall.

“I’ve applied what you showed me. I am learning there is very little that won’t open to me, with practice. It’s different from the tenets of control I was taught as a child in the Temple. That’s how we all start. Self-control. This is different. It burns, but it’s so strong.” The lights dimmed again and the projector faltered; it was a challenge. The walls around Ben’s mind were solid and intact and he was throwing out some of his new skills, things he’d read about and decided to see if they were real.

Snoke made an appreciative noise, and the pressure increased again. Hux swallowed, fighting to keep his own walls up. Snoke and Ben were raising the levels of Force in the room slowly, and Hux felt like he was drowning. Ben was very aware of Hux behind him; he was so familiar with this all by now, the way the pressure rose, the way the cracks appeared in Hux’s defenses, the flare of panic which was always the signal for him to let Snoke in.

He felt the coldness of Snoke’s presence around the edges of his consciousness, and this time, he felt the anticipation there. Snoke knew the timing as well, the sequence of events, just as Hux had figured it out. A new spike of anger flared in Ben’s chest, red hot with frustration. Why hadn’t he seen it himself? Pulling his senses away from the general, Ben opened his palms at the level of his hips and focused his rekindled rage. The darkness rose and there was so much power for him to use. He pushed back against the intrusion, with a strong and sudden violence shoving the Supreme Leader back.

Hux hadn’t realized that not only had Ben been protecting him, but he’d been supporting him. As Ben’s grounding will left, Hux exhaled sharply, angry and frustrated when he immediately felt the Force bearing down on him as he never had before. He winced, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

Then for a moment, the pressure lifted. Ben took a deep breath, and felt, rather than heard, the man behind him do the same. Hux blinked, shaking his head slightly. Ben raised his eyes to look at the Supreme Leader, feeling stronger than he’d felt in a long time. Maybe he could have both. He considered the possibility. All this power, but choosing how he would follow his path. The young man made his fatal error then. Still looking up at Snoke, he smiled. It was his father’s smile, crooked and pleased with itself. Worn on either face, father or son, it had enraged less powerful beings than Supreme Leader Snoke.

Even from that great distance, the power Snoke wielded was immense. It crashed down over the room like a tidal wave, driving Hux to his knees almost instantly. Ben stepped one foot back to physically brace himself, feeling himself pulled down, every part of him. He raised both hands to focus his own abilities, walls in his mind hastily re-constructed. His instincts screamed at him to pull the attention to himself, away from Hux. The man had no weapon; in a battle like this, he was a sacrificial victim rather than a warrior. Ben remembered the intense cold in Hux’s eyes as he’d pinned him to the door of his berth. His weakness.

Hux had one knee on the ground, hair falling forward over his face as he bowed his head. He was breathing hard, pushing back against the onslaught around him. It was too much as it poured over him, chilling him to his core. He was reliving the past week, the past months, the past year. He was full of anger, rage, dissatisfaction, revulsion. He heard all the things he never wanted to hear again, the echoing voice of his father, his mother crying.

Ben heard it all too, spilling through widening cracks in Hux’s defenses. He was listening to the man behind him being broken. It tore at him but he heard, over the sound of spectral weeping, Hux’s hissed whisper. _You will not turn me into your weakness_. Ben remembered the man’s forearm pressed tightly across his chest, his hand in his hair. The pressure grew and he was sure he couldn’t breathe, the memory of Hux’s arm mingling with the current moment until he remembered it as Hux cutting off his air, wrenching his head back. His pain was his own; the general could keep his.

Hux had a hand on the ground and the other in his hair, eyes screwed shut as he tried his best to prevent his past from being pulled up. The man focused on himself, but he couldn’t withstand this type of pressure. It was tearing him apart, but he told himself it was bearable. It was tolerable, wasn’t it, this pain that was ripping his spine out and crushing it? He was being crumbled to dust.

Ignoring the struggle behind him, Ben raised his hands higher, shoving back against the Force that was trying to break his own. The huge hall around him seemed to have closed in to the small space he could feel. He made an anguished sound; the walls in his mind lost stability, then solidified again. He could take more. He could always take more. He remembered Hux’s hand against the glass in his side, pushing it deeper. He could hear his own labored breaths inside his head.

Hux grunted, and he could feel pounding at his temples. His ears felt like they were going to burst, as if he had just been dropped twenty feet underwater with no warning. He was burning, he was drowning. He couldn’t breathe- his entire chest was compressed. Scrabbling against the power around him, Hux tried to take a deep breath, and gasped weakly instead. His eyes rolled back as he fell to the side, unconscious.

Above them, Snoke made a noise that was animalistic, more a growl than anything else. Ben heard the voice in his head. He closed his eyes to stop them from being forced from his head by the pressure. _Yield_. Not this time, thought Ben, whether to himself or Snoke, he wasn’t sure. The next onslaught made him cry out, all of it focused down on him. He couldn’t even think of Hux unconscious on the floor behind him. He could barely hold himself together, clutching at the pieces that were Ben Solo. This is power, a strangely calm part of his mind observed. This is the pure power that comes from letting go.

Snoke shifted again, and he lifted both of his spindly hands to push outwards, bearing down on Ben as if they were finally alone in the holoroom. And it infuriated Ben suddenly, the ridiculousness of the huge holo in front of him, the fact that his parents wouldn’t even notice that their son was a dubiously titled guest of the First Order, that his uncle had never taught him how best to defend himself against this, Hux’s humiliation as he was struck down like a toy no longer needed for a game. He tasted blood in his mouth and coughed once, roughly. He hated them all and it was fire inside him. How dare they, any of them?

“How dare you!” he screamed even as his lungs struggled against the pressure. He pushed back, but he was tired, incredibly tired, and his focus fumbled when he fought to take a deep breath. It was a small opening, but an opening nonetheless.

Snoke stood up suddenly, and the room seemed to expand to accommodate his height. It was impossible, but he pressed with much of his considerable Force against Ben. His ruined face was contorted, hands spread wide as he became a creeping inescapable poison for the young man in front of him. He pushed into Ben’s mind, spreading like a virus, seeping through his defences and pushing down cruelly.

<< _Yeild._ >>

Ben’s back arched when he felt Snoke’s power inside him. It was in his head, in all the places Snoke been before Ben knew it was him. This time he fell heavily to his knees as the rest of his resistance crumbled and he was open, completely open. He didn’t feel the blood running from his nose. He couldn’t see the lights he’d killed flickering back to life. Ben Solo stayed on his knees with his arms spread and his eyes wide and rolled back to white, his whole soul raw and laid out for Snoke to see.

The Supreme Leader sat back down, one hand up and outspread. The massive sentient took a deep breath, taking Ben in and knowing him. He was flayed before Snoke, bones exposed and beating heart rendered plain.

“Good,” Snoke muttered, closing his hand into a fist as he leaned back and took another deep breath. “Very good.” Ben was trapped until the Supreme Leader released him, letting him fall forward to catch himself on his hands against the cold floor. He remained on all fours, just breathing, just remembering how to breathe. He felt violated and in awe. He felt as though he would collapse right here, and he felt power and anger in a tight knot in the center of his chest.

“You were right, Ben Solo,” Snoke spoke above him, and his voice seemed incredibly far away. “You have learned much. Go to your rest. When we meet again, I have such things to teach you.” No mention of the General on the floor, no mention of Ben’s weakness, his hatred. Just a promise, and then the holopad was just an empty platform.

Behind Ben, Hux lay unconscious with his breathing shallow. Ben couldn’t move for a few minutes; he stayed on on his hands and knees, dazedly watching blood drop onto the floor. Where was the blood coming from? As he knelt up, he raised the back of his hand to his face; when he pulled it away, there was blood on his fingers. He swallowed and turned, fighting through the pain that radiated through his body. His limbs felt leaden. His torso felt as though his ribcage had been clawed open and his organs had been shredded from the inside. The smuggler crawled over to Hux, who lay crumpled on his side with his hair uncharacteristically mussed.

“Don’t be dead,” Ben muttered, barely giving the words enough air. “Don’t be kriffing dead.” He pulled him over onto his back and looked down at his pale face. The general was alive; he could feel it, raw and unprotected as he was. He put his shaking fingers to the side of the man’s neck anyway, as though without feeling his pulse under his actual hand he wouldn’t know. Ben sighed and sat back on his heels as his vision swam. He’d never gone up against that kind of power, that kind of malevolent lack of restraint. It had been exhilarating; he’d been nearly undone. There was an echo of Snoke’s touch in his head. His stomach immediately revolted and he pitched forward, shoulders heaving as he retched. His stomach was empty; his throat was dry. There was nothing to bring up except that taste of blood in his mouth.

After he sat back, Ben shook the general’s shoulder. The man moved bonelessly under his hand. He shook him again.

“Wake up, you stupid idiot. Look what you did to yourself.” Hux didn’t reply, and Ben got the feeling that he wouldn’t for awhile. He had no interest in knowing what was happening in the general’s head right now, considering how disordered and dark his own thoughts were. Cursing under his breath, the smuggler got his feet underneath him. “I bet you’re heavier than you look,” he told the unconscious man on the ground as he crouched down to him again. It took him three false starts to drag him forward and pull him up, managing finally, with a great deal of creative swearing, to get him over his shoulder.

Ben staggered toward the door under the general’s dead weight. He knew he wouldn’t make it far; already the edges of his vision were darkening as a massive headache swelled. They met with a group of three troopers as he made his way to the lift. Their concern and confusion almost overwhelmed him. Everything was so loud, so vivid, over his raw senses. If he had to explain things, he thought he might throw up.

He made a slight gesture with his hand, feeling the spreading pain in his chest as he pulled up his last reserves. “You haven’t seen anything strange. Captain Phasma’s expecting you.” His voice was gravelly and he was actually surprised when one of the troopers repeated his words back to him with personal conviction before the group moved away.

He had no access to the general’s private rooms, he realized when he finally made it to the Commanders’ wing. So he dropped Hux onto the couch in his room, only because he knew the man would be furious if he was left on the floor. Ben half collapsed on the floor next to the sofa, leaning his head on the cushion and draping one arm over Hux’s torso. There was some small comfort in feeling his chest rise and fall; it seemed very simple.

He wanted to empty his head. He wanted to leave, right then. But there was a deep dark spot in him that wanted to be what he’d just witnessed, to hold that kind of power. He was sure he could do it. If he could just pull his arm away from Hux, go to his own bed, release any concern he had for him. It was an easy gesture, a single movement. A man with that kind of power didn’t need to protect anyone.

Ben fell asleep before he could decide, his arm still loosely over the man unconscious on his sofa.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this time! Thanks for all the love. Extra long chapter today because July 4th! Have a great holiday!

At least while Hux was unconscious, he didn’t think. He didn’t dream; barely a real image passed through his mind. It was the best rest for him, considering that his mind had been invaded to the point where his being, to his core, had simply shut down. For a few seconds his heart had stopped beating, his mind had turned off like an old holopad, a bright blink and then there was nothing.

But Arrik Hux’s mind never stayed still for long, and unconsciousness left him like a fog, sliding slowly off his form. Blinking, he woke up in measures rather than all at once. The room had dimmed the lights as the ship’s rotation changed, and the only brightness came from the window, from the pinpricks of stars and warning lights that leaked through the window from the ship outside.

He saw Ben first, legs sprawled on the floor, leaning against the couch cushions, one arm disappearing onto the couch. Hux frowned and turned his head slightly (pain, dull, at his temples) and saw Ben’s arm over his own torso. Confusion, and then it clicked. He hadn’t expected to walk out of that room when he went in, but he didn’t know if he had planned for this, precisely. Ben Solo had probably carried him to his berth, set him on the couch and then just...forgotten to leave.

The weight of Ben’s arm over his waist wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and there was still a different weight resting on Hux that made it difficult to move, much less think about getting off the couch. Besides, the dull ache had turned into a splitting headache that seemed intent on driving his head in two, his body was in pain, physical pain, a hurt that seemed to radiate even into his bones. He frowned, shifting a little to lie on his side and turn his face away from any radiant light that was coming from the window. He had duties, responsibilities, a ship and systems to run, but he couldn’t imagine moving. Sighing, he patted his greatcoat, annoyed when he realized his pad was still in the holoroom’s slot. He found the small comm on his wrist and sent a message to Derr’wan and Mitaka, simply sending ‘off duty, sick.’

It wasn’t a good move, but it was the best he had. If his hands shook while he was on the bridge, or he passed out while heading up a meeting, he would be haunted for years.

That left the problem of Ben Solo. Ben Solo who had done what he had asked, who brought him up to his rooms, probably without troopers, had put him on the couch and didn’t even bother to leave him alone. It was a strangely acceptable form of vulnerability, and Hux was grateful.

He inhaled deeply despite the pain in his chest and reached over to push Ben’s hair back, frowning slightly. It would never stay in place. He repeated the movement, fixating on the fact that Ben’s hair wouldn’t stay put, that it kept falling back onto the couch or over his eyes. The general wasn’t in a state of mind to realize that it was simply too curly, a little too wild to be simply put in order, but he drifted to sleep again, the tips of his fingers brushing against Ben’s temple.

For his part, Ben felt nothing. He slept twelve hours until he first stirred, then lost the fight for consciousness for another four. He’d never expended himself through the Force that much. He’d never fought like that in his entire life. Besides the blood that had dried where it had run down from his left nostril, there was no other physical mark on him. But his mind was trying to heal his soul where it had been raked by Snoke’s psychic claws. At one point, he shuddered violently, convulsively, and knocked himself out of his precarious pose against the couch. He fell completely onto the floor with the heavy sound of a man making no attempt to stop his fall. He stayed there, on his side, while the lights in the room went through their scheduled cycle. The comm on his datapad beeped where it sat on the low table. Phasma was looking for her sparring partner.

It was the beep that woke Hux up again. It was ingrained into his system that beeps meant someone needed his attention immediately. He shifted and sat up, seeing Ben on the floor; he blinked, frowning. He vaguely remembered Ben at least sitting up earlier, and he reached down to pull Ben up so that he was propped against the couch again, his head lolling back. Even that much effort was a lot for Hux, and he leaned forward to take a few slow deep breaths. His hand gripping Ben’s shoulder tightly as he fought down vertigo. Ben had no reaction, as Hux hadn’t earlier. The beep from the pad sounded again. The captain was not passive while she waited.

Hux made a noise, the lights in the area flicking on as the motion sensors registered movement. He dug his nails into Ben’s shoulder to balance himself as he leaned forward to dismiss the notice on the pad before falling back on the couch. Ben’s limp body was propped against his leg, the man’s head against his thigh and for the moment, that was fine. Hux groaned and closed his eyes.

“Lights, off.”

When Ben woke up two hours later, actually woke up with a painful deep breath, he woke up in the dark. He pulled his chin down to his chest, wincing as he stretched the kinked muscles in his neck. The pain lingered, almost tingling through his body like leftover adrenaline, but his eyes were open, and he was pleased to find that he could keep them open. He had no idea how long he’d been out. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes for a second. It felt like he’d been gone for a hundred years. He exhaled as though someone had pressed on his chest when he remembered.

“Arrik.”

He turned, muscles remembering that he was human and could move them, and looked at the man lying on the couch. He hadn’t died while Ben slept, and he felt more relief than he’d expected. He slid his hand over Hux’s bare wrist where his dark uniform sleeve had been pulled up. It seemed impossible that he was alive. The smuggler shook his head. Grabbing onto the edge of the low table, Ben gritted his teeth and slowly forced himself to his knees first, then to his unsteady feet. He stumbled to the bathroom, driven by a need to be clean. The water couldn’t really clean him, he knew that. He’d never pulled from the dark that way before. It was impossible to wash off the shame. It was also impossible to deny how good it had felt to hold that much power in his hands, to be standing with his shoulders back and his back straight while he felt himself part of the Force in a different way. He could distinctly remember how it had felt when Snoke’s power had dropped before his. He wanted that with lightning intensity. In that moment, he’d had no doubts about himself.

Maybe that was what he actually wanted.

He avoided the mirror before and after his shower; he had no desire to see how much like warmed over dead wampa he looked. Walking out of the washroom with a grey towel around his waist, Ben looked back toward the couch in the light that was coming from the open bathroom door.

Without Ben’s weight on his leg, Hux had begun to slowly wake up. He clawed his way through sleep, pushing it down, and he realized, blearily, blinking at his comm, that he had been offline for almost three rotations. Unacceptable, even considering what he’d been through.

Hux made a noise as he sat up, pulling his greatcoat off and setting it beside him. His fingers fumbled with his dress jacket, and he undid the top three hooks. He leaned forward again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and taking deep breaths to center himself. The ache was low, but his headache was still splitting.

Ben watched him for a second from his position by the bathroom door. If he was quiet, he felt like Hux would never even know he standing there. He inhaled slowly as he watched the other man’s shoulders rise with his own breath, but his throat caught as he breathed out and he coughed harshly. Of course the general would look up sharply; of course Ben Solo would ruin the moment. The smuggler licked his lips, wishing he’d gotten dressed in his dirty clothes before he’d walked out. He didn’t like just standing with just a towel wrapped around his hips. He felt a little...exposed.

“You’re alive,” he commented finally, voice still hoarse.

Hux was watching him carefully, his mouth tight. He made no move to shift from his position, but his hands dropped slowly. He thought nothing of the fact that Ben was in just a towel, that he looked pale as Snoke himself.

He took a deep breath and nodded, not looking away from Ben as he sat up a little straighter. He swallowed and gestured slightly, indicating the place next to him where Ben had been lying on the floor.

“Come here.” It was almost a question- not a command, not unkind, but not soft.

Ben pressed his mouth, feeling several droplets of water slide ice cold from his wet hair down his spine. When was it obedience and when was it a choice? Was it always a choice? Was it ever?

He walked over to the couch, stretching out one hand in a negligent gesture to move the low table out of his way with the Force. It set a jangling pain through his nerves and he caught his breath. He was so raw inside, in all the places only Snoke had ever touched. The table shot across the floor in an awkward lurch. Ben tried to keep his face emotionless as he stepped forward again.

Hux’s eyes didn’t look away from Ben’s. He didn’t flinch as the table dragged across the floor, and he took another deep breath through his nose.

“On the floor.” It came out in that same tone. Quietly, almost gently. Nothing about his voice or expression demanding.

Without really letting himself think about it, Ben walked over to Hux and sank to the floor in front of the couch with a strangely muscled grace. He sighed quietly as his bare shoulders touched the synthetic fabric of the couch cushion behind him, bare legs tucked underneath him. He still didn’t speak, waiting for Hux to say something else, to give him some confirmation. He was alive.

The general sighed quietly as he put his hand in Ben’s hair, very slowly. Right now, he didn’t want to hurt Ben. They had been hurt enough. Both of them had nearly died in that holoroom, and his head still felt like it was being torn in two. Without the energy to really move, he sat with his chin resting in his palm, his elbow on his left knee. He put his hand on the side of Ben’s head, watching the man’s shoulders carefully as he pulled him to rest his temple against his knee. The smuggler’s muscles all tensed; it felt strange and unnatural to be touched by real hands. But the room was silent and still dark, lit only by the light spilling from the open bathroom door. It made it alright to let himself be moved. After a few seconds’ resistance, Ben’s head sank against Hux’s thigh. The heavy fabric was cool against his cheek, but he could feel the warmth of the general’s thigh through it. He twisted his mouth in the silence.

“You’re alive,” he repeated and there was something of a question in it.

Hux swallowed again, his fingers moving through Ben’s hair slowly. He moved, and his hand brushed back across his temple, to curl along his ear, letting his short nails drag lightly over his jaw and cheekbone before running them through his hair again. He made a soft noise, still looking down at Ben’s shoulders.

“Alive,” he agreed, voice low. “Not entirely well. But alive.”

“Sometimes that’s all you have, at first.” Ben took a deep breath, staring across the dark room. He wanted to shut the door and keep all the light out, but he was afraid of that ripping pain again. He wondered when he’d just be himself again.

The general took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He didn’t stop his hand, still sliding his fingers across Ben’s skull. He felt tired deep in his bones and his head was pounding. He couldn’t bring himself to string two fully coherent sentences together, much less perform his duties as a general. Despite the physical pain, despite the fact that he still heard sounds from his childhood that he had ignored for years, Hux still felt a strange mixture of emotions towards the man sitting on the floor, leaning against his leg.

“What day is it?” Ben asked quietly after another moment of silence.

“Fifth day of the weekly rotation,” he responded slowly. “We’ve been here for nearly four shifts.”

“Four…” Ben echoed quietly, then swallowed. Two full cycles and he still wasn’t recovered. Something in his belly tightened. He had to be stronger than this.

Hux made a noise, his eyes still closed. He felt it, felt Ben tighten beside him. His hand didn’t stop moving through his hair. Another few minutes passed before Hux spoke, “Thank you.”

“Thank you for having the grace not to die on that sofa. I’m pretty sure they’d have found a firing squad fast enough to outshoot my protests.” Ben didn’t smile; the flippancy came out before he even thought about it. His first defense mechanism.

Hux tensed, his fingers still against Ben’s jaw.

“I felt you...go out,” Ben went on when the silence continued. “I didn’t know what would be left.”

The general let the sarcasm slide; he was too tired to protest and he wanted to keep Ben in place. He swallowed and moved his hand, trailing along the side of Ben’s face before pushing his hair back again.

“I’m here.”

“I am too.” Ben was quiet for another minute, letting it stretch out in the darkness. “There are things I require, general.” The formality was oddly intimate, his voice low.

Hux shifted, opening his eyes and sitting up. His fingers rested against Ben’s jaw.

“Name them.”

“I can’t wear these awful clothes anymore. They’re just universal socks for your whole body.” It was a small stupid thing, but Ben hated the feeling that he was dressed like everybody else. He wasn’t everybody else.

If Hux didn’t feel like it would rend his skull, he would have rolled his eyes. “What kind of clothes would you like?”

“Normal clothes. Not this weird stretchy training gear.” Ben shrugged. “Or let’s take a shuttle somewhere and I can get my own things.” He paused, then nodded with his cheek against Hux’s knee. “I also need full access to the database archives.”

Hux took a deep breath, frowning a little. He moved his hand, just barely.

“Ben,” he paused, “there are records of ongoing military operations. I will raise your access, but I can’t allow you to get into those files.”

“I said I had requirements. This is one of them. Full access, general. Or do you trust me with your life but not with your secrets?” Ben kept his eyes on a shape in the darkness. A small cabinet; he knew it was empty and he had nothing to put in it. “All your secrets.”

“Those aren’t just my secrets,” he said quietly, resigned. The implication was there. Right now, Ben could have anything he wanted from Hux. Yet the First Order remained untouchable, above him always.

“Then I want full access to anything historical. You can keep your military operations to yourself. I’m not really interested in them anyway,” Ben replied, voice still very calm. He felt a little outside of himself, but also very much here with Hux. Arrik. He couldn’t get that memory out of his head. The second he had felt Hux gone, that flicker of non-life.

“Done,” Hux said, in a tone that was much more like himself. He shifted slightly, leaning forwards again with his back straight. He slid his hand forward, keeping his fingers on the side of Ben’s face and moving his thumb back and forth along Ben’s cheekbone.

“Lastly.” Ben pressed his mouth, running the words silently through his head before he said them aloud. “I want to make a call to my mother.”

Hux paused, although he continued to hold Ben against his knee gently with his thumb still tracing a line over Ben’s face. He took a deep breath, frowning slightly. This would be the test, wouldn’t it? If he wanted Ben Solo, this was the act of trust he had to offer. He only took a second to think about it, but the risk was worth it. If Ben had wanted to spill secrets to his mother, honestly, what could he tell her that wasn’t already known? There wasn’t much that he could reveal to General Leia Organa that would hurt the First Order.

“I can give you access to the long-range communications for half an hour.”

Ben nodded once and closed his eyes.

“That’s all I’ll need. As well as your promise that my conversation will be private,” he said with the same assurance.

“As you’d like,” Hux muttered softly, his fingers curling under Ben’s jaw lightly.

“And of course, your presence will no longer be necessary when I meet with the Supreme Leader,” Ben said mildly as though this was already a foregone conclusion.

Hux made a noise as he shifted, leaning over Ben slightly.

“Anything else?”

“No. For now, that’s all I need.” He held his breath as Hux leaned over him, feeling the other man’s breath faintly on his cheek.

“And is that all you want?” Hux asked, voice low, not angry. His fingers curled a little more, pressing into the soft flesh under Ben’s jaw. Every part of Arrik Hux felt as if it had been beaten, but he pushed all that into a small corner of his mind, focusing instead, with incredible intent, on Ben Solo. That focus wasn’t lost on its target.

“Should I ask you that, general? I know you have requirements for me. New ones.” There was a strange duality to them now, he felt. Something had changed.

“If you want it,” Hux pulled the other man’s head up slowly, turning Ben so that their eyes met. “Say it.”

In the paleness of Hux’s eyes, Ben saw the last time he was below him, face turned up expectantly. The ghost of the slap against his skin.

“If you’re trying to give an order, general, I’m afraid you’ll have to speak more plainly,” he said, holding Hux’s gaze.

Hux’s brows furrowed, and he didn’t look away from Ben for a second. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“If you’re going to hurt me, then respect me enough to remind me what pain really is.” Ben whispered the words as they came up from that dark place in him. It was open now, a wound that wouldn’t heal. Something that fed on pain.

“I will do as I like,” Hux said quietly, still leaning over Ben. His fingers were insistent under Ben’s chin, but he didn’t intend for it to be painful.

“And you know exactly what I can do. Well...maybe not exactly,” Ben replied in the same hushed voice. “But I’d guess you have a very healthy guess at this point. I can end a game at any time. So play carefully.”

Hux hummed consideringly, rubbing his thumb over Ben’s cheekbone again before sitting back and letting his hand fall away from the smuggler’s face. He took a deep breath, and he hated to admit that he felt exhausted still.

“Another time.”

Ben’s aching body felt relief. That darkness inside him felt disappointment. The air cooled over him when Hux pulled away, and Ben sat up into a space with none of the general’s body heat at all.

He wanted to feel that lean strength over him again.

“Isn’t anybody looking for you?” he asked finally, voice still strained.

“I went off duty, said I was sick.” The general frowned, shifting slightly. “Did anyone see you bring me up here?”

“A few people, but it’s not a problem. They don’t know they saw us.” Ben sat up more, aware suddenly that he was only in a towel. “You’re heavier than you look, by the way.”

“I’ve already thanked you for what you did.” Hux swallowed, watching Ben shift. He was uncomfortable, suddenly self-conscious; Hux could see it in the set of his shoulders and the tension in his neck. “Maybe you’d like to put on clothes?”

Ben stood up slowly, forcing the movements to be smooth and unhurried even as his muscles screamed at him. He leaned over Hux, turning to face the couch and the long window behind it.

The general watched him stand and knew himself to be completely exhausted. It would have taken all his energy just to walk across the foyer to his own berth. Even without the Force, Arrik was at Ben’s mercy. Keeping every gesture controlled, Ben reached forward and just barely touched his fingertips to Hux’s cheek.

“Maybe you’d like to close your eyes, general,” he suggested. Just words. There were no mind tricks now.

Hux nodded, blinking slowly. He stood up carefully, picking up his greatcoat and setting it over his shoulders. Ben watched him, then extended his hand and Force pushed him back down to sitting. The pain sang through him and he let it.

“I said you should close your eyes.”

Hux set his jaw, letting anger shoot through him for a second. It had taken too much energy to stand up once, and Ben was hindering him.

“I was going to my rooms,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t make this hard for me.”

“Don’t make it hard for yourself. Close your eyes.”

The general glared up at Ben, and even feeling this familiar ire hurt, in some way. “If you’re going to keep me here to make sure that I’m sleeping and not on my datapad, at least allow me the benefit of sleeping on a kriffing bed.”

Ben watched him for a second, then offered his hand, palm up.

“Then go sleep in the bed. Tomorrow we both have a lot to do. There are new expectations. I have new expectations.”

Hux took Ben’s forearm, frowning as he pulled himself up. He was almost breathing hard, and he felt disgusted with himself, that he was this weak. It didn’t even bother him that Ben was seeing this; he had obviously seen worse. The general took a deep breath, setting his jaw. Ben met his eyes and held them steadily.

“Sleep well, general.”

Hux nodded tightly as he let go of Ben’s forearm, taking a step back. Without saying anything else, Arrik went into the bedroom and shut the door before taking off his clothes slowly. Finding the casual clothing that Ben seemed to hate so much, he pulled it on to sleep. They were a similar size, and at least the pants weren’t falling off his hips. He pulled the comm off his greatcoat and slid into bed, holding onto the tech.

He sent another quick message to Derr’wan and Mitaka, letting them know that he would be off duty for one one more rotation further. With that done, he slid closer to the edge of the bed, lying on his side. It was frustrating how tired he truly was. It seemed bone-deep, and Hux fell asleep fast, warm and too fatigued to fight it.

Ben’s journey back to sleep was much quicker. When the bedroom door closed, he let himself half-fall onto the couch, curling up on his side. The cushion was still warm from Hux’s body and he could feel the lingering heat against his bare chest as he pulled in on himself. Again, he wasn’t sure who’d won or lost that battle, one of the small battles he and Hux faced off in nearly every time they spoke. He didn’t know how he could still be this tired. But within a minute, he was asleep again, and again, there were no dreams.

* * *

The return to routine was only strange for a few hours. Ben watched Hux resume command of his ship as though he had never been lying senseless on the floor of the comm hall, as though there had never been a crack in his mind so wide it had killed him for several seconds. Sleep healed his own pain; he pushed his body through the lingering stiffness of inactivity as he trained with Phasma and alone (she never asked him where he had been when he’d missed their sessions, as though he owed her no explanations), then almost tentatively resumed his use of the Force in practice. It was a morning calling the datapad into his hand to reserve the sim pod for several hours, then a few days later he knelt on the floor in one of the smaller ready rooms, the scanned words of ancient texts huge on the screen in front of him while he extended the Force to try the abilities the texts promised were his if he continued to draw from that dark wound inside him. It hadn’t healed, but it gave him strength. Perhaps he had never known just how full of helpless anger he had been. When Snoke called him again, and he stood before him alone (again, without question that it was only him, not Hux, as though his decisions held some respect on this ship, in this Order), the sentient taught him to focus the anger and concentrate it into hatred, the fierce rage that burned at the back of his throat now a power to bring to his hands.

He wore a modified uniform that showed off his broad shoulders but was relaxed in the arms; when he walked through the ship, he had a heavy coat with the insignia picked off the sleeve. It swept at the back of his ankles when he walked and he felt Hux’s eyes on him more than once.

In the middle of the night, Ben woke up with a start from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch, datapad in hand. There was only one person in the entire galaxy who said his voice like that, with that touch of love and disapproval and fondness and worry. Her face, in his dream, had been suffused with light and he felt it again, the crippling doubt. This was a dangerous path. How much further could he walked it before reaching a point from which he couldn’t go back?

He sent a message to Hux, then flung the datapad onto the table. There was no way to fall back to sleep, so he sat in the darkness with his restless hands on his thighs as he tried to meditate. His thoughts fell back again to that moment in the huge chamber, with Snoke’s will pressing down on him, that sharp drop in the Force when Hux simply was not...and then the flare of light when he again was. He wanted to find the sensation that was in the middle. What had that been? Where had it been?

He was waiting at one of the comm stations for ten minutes before Hux arrived at the beginning of his shift. This station allowed for some privacy; it was the only one in the area, with a door that could be closed. The officer attending the station looked a little nervous, maybe even more nervous after the smuggler winked at him. But his attention was already on Hosnian Prime. It was time to call Leia. Maybe his mother wanted to hear from her son.

After their conversation, and it was one of their longer ones, in the quiet dark stillness of the room, Hux didn’t feel as if they were stronger for the battlefield they had walked through, but as if they had been tied together in some strange way. Hux would never admit that he let himself watch Ben, that it was an indulgence to let his eyes trail after the other man. Hux simply appreciated power when presented well.

When Hux received the message he was on the tail end of an extended bridge shift, and he was only surprised that it had taken so long for Ben to ask for this. He took his rest, and responded afterwards, giving the time and location for the comm that Ben would have access to.

Hux walked up to the station, frowning, slightly surprised that Ben had not only arrived at the right place, but early. The smuggler nodded to Hux when he got closer, waiting for the other man to come over to him rather than taking that few steps forward to meet him.

“Officer Hanlon is a bit concerned about my presence in this area of the ship, general.”

“Is he?” Hux asked mildly, glancing over at Hanlon, who didn’t look concerned, but definitely appeared more nervous now that Hux and Ben were together in the area. “Officer, you are dismissed. You can resume your shift in an hour.”

“Sir.” Hanlon saluted and turned to leave, not wasting any time asking questions or hesitating. Hux turned back to Ben, eyebrows up.

“As I’ve promised.” He leaned over the station, putting in a string of access codes and scanning his code cylinder before a bright screen popped up on the video screen, asking for base coordinates and then the specific receiver code. Behind him, Ben took off his coat and jacket, tossing them both over another console. His mother couldn’t see him in military clothing; no matter the modifications, she’d know. Beneath his uniform jacket, he had the same shirt he’d come onto the _Finalizer_ wearing, with the same uneven blue stain at the neckline that still wouldn’t come off nor yield up any memory to him of where it came from. Hux stood up straight, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder and pulling him around, guiding him to sit in the station’s seat

Ben glanced up at Hux as he sat.

“You’re sure you’ve cloaked the signal? She won’t be looking into the origin too carefully, but I assume you’ve taken precautions.” He ran his fingers along the edge of the bench.

“I’ve placed you on a commonly used frequency, as well as overlaid a redirect program, so the origin point will be indiscernible,” Hux said, glancing down at Ben and standing up straighter. “I will bypass the observation protocols; for the next hour this room is dark. I will be waiting outside for you.”

“Thanks.” The word felt short in his mouth and he licked his lips, looking up at the other man again. “I doubt I’ll be that long.” Leia’s calls tended to be short, enough to see he was alive and to unsubtly hint that he was in the wrong place.

Hux made a noise, stepping back.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He turned and shut the door behind himself, going to the pad by the door and doing as he promised. The door was locked from the inside, and any security feeds that were plugged into this room were disabled, leaving Ben as alone as he could be on the _Finalizer_.

Ben glanced around the room. It looked like a ship, the indistinguishable interior of any ship, if very tidy and obviously not the Falcon. There were no First Order pennants hanging, no prop holos floating nearby. And he was just himself, in his old shirt, with a bruise on his face from when Phasma’s elbow had caught him this morning. Nothing about a bruise on his cheekbone would lead Leia Organa to think her son was doing anything out of the ordinary. Nodding to himself, he typed a long code through the open channel, having memorized her direct line long ago. He’d timed the call to come during her first meal of the day, before she could be scheduled for any early Senate meetings. The current time on Hosnian Prime flashed on the screen while the call went through, and Ben sat forward slightly. He hadn’t actually called his mother since his last birthday...and he was almost another year older now.

The screen flashed once, with a bright green ‘transmission accepted’ brightening the bottom of the vid. All at once, the Senator appeared, turned in her seat and frowning into the camera, preparing to demand that whoever was on the other end identify themselves, but as soon as she saw her son, her face brightened considerably.

“Ben!” She smiled, putting aside her own Senate-issued datapad and ignoring the plate in front of her. “I was just thinking about you.”

Ben’s smile was immediate, a nonverbal reply that was half relief. She’d been thinking about him.

“Good morning, mom. Sorry to get you right in the middle of your meal, but I figured otherwise I wouldn’t get a call in until you were falling asleep much past the hour you should be.” He sat up and forward in the chair as though that would put him any closer to his mother. “How’re you?”

“Oh, you know, busy.” Even as she continued to smile, it was obvious that she was tired, though it was just as obvious that she was pleased to see her son. “There’s a lot going on here, and as always, there are a few other brand new irons in the fire.” She gestured slightly, turning more towards the side of her desk, where the vid-pad was set up on the corner. “Tell me what dusty corner of the universe you’ve gallivanted off too. I haven’t heard anything from your father.”

“I can almost hear your arguments with Chancellor Villecham from here,” Ben commented, then shrugged and his smile was bigger again. His mother’s hair was down in its long plaits; she hadn’t tucked them up for the day’s work yet. “I’m on my way from here to there. Sort of had to make a side trip to finish out a bigger plan of Dad’s. If you haven’t heard from him, that’s probably because he’s trying to figure out what to do with his side of it.” He wondered, suddenly, how often his parents actually spoke. “I, uh, I found a couple old books, actually. Not for this trade. Just on my own. Old Sith Wars stuff.”

“Sith Wars?” she asked, curiously, eyebrows up. “Please tell me you didn’t raid a monastery to get those.”

“What, afraid I’ll pick up some ancient curse for myself?” Ben laughed and wrinkled his nose. “And no, I didn’t. They were in somebody else’s...collection. They’re hard to read.” He frowned slightly. “I never thought you’d need to use the Force just to read a book.” He felt exhausted after going through the texts that the First Order had deep in its vaults. He was pretty sure that even if someone else went looking for them, someone who wasn’t Force sensitive wouldn’t be able to make sense of the first page, let alone make it through to some of the exercises outlined later on. And that was just reading them.

Leia’s eyebrows snapped down, and her displeasure was obvious as her happiness had been a moment before. “What kind of books are these?” Ben wasn’t surprised by her reaction.

“Some history, some cultural stuff. I mean, Uncle Luke doesn’t have anything like this with him. At least...I don’t think he does. He doesn’t let anyone really go through the books he ended up with after the war ended.” He shrugged and sat back a little.

“Ben, you know that any object that compels you to use the Force just to understand it is not entirely safe. Especially old texts from stars knows where, that you just happened to find in a collection?” She spoke quickly, concerned. “If you come to the Senate you can have access to our libraries; I’m sure that any history you want to study up on would be available.”

“Those texts are incomplete and you know that. These are things that are meant to be read by people like me. People like us, Mom. We’re not like everybody else. Why shouldn’t we learn about our history?” He made a noise, and Leia’s frown deepened, her wrinkled seemingly carved into her face. “Not that...I mean, not like we have Sith cultural heritage. We don’t. That culture’s been gone for...hells, I don’t even know how long. But doesn’t it make sense that there are things there that could help us? Uncle Luke’s still trying to piece together Jedi history. Those pieces, abilities...the Sith worked with some of the same principles. We could find them there, maybe.”

“Your uncle has been training for years,” Leia said, her voice controlled. “Whatever the Sith did turned them into monsters, and no good can come of you messing around with their old books.”

Ben made a frustrated noise and sat up straight.

“Reading a book never hurt anyone. Knowledge doesn’t hurt.” He spread his hands, then exhaled slowly. “Aren’t you curious?”

Leia took a deep breath, watching her son’s face carefully. Ben could see that by her right hand, her datapad screen had started to flash and buzz, and it was obvious that she had messages waiting and at least one incoming transmission, even at this early hour.

“Knowledge can hurt,” she said slowly, trying to school her voice into something that wasn’t as demanding, and she managed to come close to motherly. “You said so yourself, Ben. For people like us, our family. Knowing how, knowing why, it can hurt.”

“Not knowing could be worse.” His gaze went from his mother’s intense eyes to the flashes coming with increasing rapidity from her datapad. “What’s everyone so afraid of?” His mouth worked for a moment. “That I’ll go to the dark side because of a book?”

“Nobody is saying that, sweetheart,” Leia sighed, glancing from the video screen to her data pad and dismissing the notices before looking back to Ben. “I’m just trying to tell you to be careful, that’s all.”

“I am being careful,” he said, knowing he was already losing her attention to the Senate. “I’m just...I want to know what I am. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“Last time I checked you were a smuggler,” Leia said, smiling a little, her eyes crinkling around the corners. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Maybe I’m looking at my options all over again?” Ben returned her smile, though it was weak. Her voice set all his limits around him again. “Maybe I’m not too old to re-think my career.”

“Well you know-” Another beep came from next to her hand, insistent. She frowned slightly, turning away from Ben for a second. “You can always go back to the Temple.” It was the standard answer to any of his questioning, he’d found.

“Even if Uncle Luke still calls me padawan, I cut my braid off years ago.” He knew that didn’t matter. He had gone back to the Temple, over and over, to try to make himself fit that mold. It had been the closest fit, until the darkness rose up and he didn’t know what to do with it. Snoke had promised him, had shown him already, how to use it. He swallowed and pushed his hair back from his face.

“Whatever stock he holds in those silly designations is just his own pride; he never had a braid himself,” she said dismissively, glancing back at her datapad and frowning again. She sighed through her nose, shaking her head as she looked back at Ben with a wry smile. “The Senate never sleeps.”

Ben smiled, or tried to, and looked down.

“I know you have to go. I just…” He looked to the side and saw the heavy grey coat lying over the next console, waiting for him. The Senate was a dying power. His mother was its purest form, but around her, it denigrated into the exact same machine it had been. His memory created the fierce stripes around one sleeve of the coat. He didn’t look up. “Mom, it’s been...happening again. Those dreams.” He pressed his mouth in frustration; he’d never been able to explain it to her. When he was a child, he hadn’t had the name to put to those cold, dark fingers poking around in his mind and stirring up the other side of his power. Now he had a name and he couldn’t say it, couldn’t explain how sick those claws inside him made him feel, but how strong.

Leia watched Ben, her mouth thinning as she pursed her lips. She knew her son and knew that he struggled every day with this sort of problem. When he was younger it had been so much easier to just give the boy something to do and hope he found a direction. Now it was nearly impossible to get the young man in front of her to do anything she recommended. She was worried and at a loss. Her son was a grown man and he seemed determined to waste his life like Han had before he had found the Rebellion. Even then, her husband hadn’t exactly settled down for long.

She found the silence broken by the beeps of the datapad beside her.

“Oh, hells,” Leia muttered, frowning and glancing away from Ben again, distracted and annoyed. She swiped through the messages and shook her head, turning back to the screen to watch her son intently.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help.” When Ben had been a child she had taken him in her arms, made him a soothing tea from a stock of Alderaan seeds that had been replanted in an effort to preserve Alderaanian culture, and said nothing about how it didn’t taste quite right. Instead she had rocked her child to sleep, telling him fairy tales of the Princess and the Scoundrel, silly stories of the adventures she and Han had when they were younger. Much younger.

Ben felt it like a blow to the chest. There were no new answers. It was always the same. Don’t go digging, especially in yourself. Learn to be a Jedi, learn to work for the New Republic. His mother knew so much; as a child he’d stalwartly believed she knew everything and had bloodied another boy’s nose to defend that fact. But her limits, like her twin’s, had become her fears. He was something outside those limits. Her words sank into that dark blood seeping from the psychic wound Snoke had opened in him. _I don’t know how to help_. Still. Again.

“You know what I think,” Leia continued, choosing her words carefully. She was watching Ben, seeing the worry lying heavy over him. Leia wanted nothing more than to bring her son home, to give him his family again, to show him that there was a way to make something worthwhile at the Temple, at the Senate. Behind her, the pings kept shooting through. “But unless you want to come here, or go visit your Uncle, I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own way.”

Outwardly, he smiled a little and shrugged, shaking his head. Before he could even respond, his mother received two more messages.

“It’s fine, Mom. I’m fine.” He sat back and pointed through the screen at the datapad next to her. “You’d better get to those before Threepio starts alerting you personally that you’re urgently needed.”

Leia sighed, watching Ben.

“That droid will be the death of me,” she muttered, turning away to answer the pings quickly. “Where are you, anyway? I didn’t recognize your access code.”

Ben sat back, putting up his usual defenses. His smuggler’s mask was almost perfect, even to his mother.

“Just bouncing around along the back end of the Outer Rim,” he said with enough truth to make it a full truth for her. “Making a quick pick up -don’t worry, it’s totally perfectly safe- then heading off.”

“Is that so?” Leia sounded skeptical, eyebrows up. “Outer Rim’s a big space. Mind being more specific?”

“Mom!” Ben protested, laughing. “You trying to get me killed? Who knows who’s peeking in on this call? Could be the First Order.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that reminded Leia distinctly of Han.

“Don’t say that,” Leia snapped, shaking her head to glance at the pad again. “You and your father both know how I feel about those fanatics. Touched, the lot of them.”

“They did used to be a component of the New Republic,” Ben said in a mild, oddly relaxed voice. Baiting her a little with the truth. “In the early days, right?”

“And then they became a fully militarized cabal and are currently an active threat to the Republic, despite the Senate decree otherwise.” Her voice was hard now, and she watched Ben’s flippancy with the same annoyance that she regarded most Senators who stood beside her. “You know they’re dangerous, why do you insist on playing ignorant?”

“I’m not playing ignorant, Mom. I’m just firing up your engines.” Ben shrugged again. “Believe me. I’m as safe as I can be. You know I’ve got some advantages that don’t really allow me to be in real danger too often.” He paused for perfect filial effect. “Unless the Falcon blows up.”

“Oh, hells, Ben.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “You are...so like your father.” It sounded almost like a lament, as if to ask the universe at large how she ended ended up with a second Solo to take care of.

“I’ll work on that, I promise.” Ben took a deep breath, eyes moving over her face as though he was trying to memorize the moment. “Don’t work too hard, Mom, okay? Blow off whoever’s trying to get you to go to dinner. Have a bath. Go to bed early tonight.”

Leia’s gaze softened as she watched Ben. She smiled a little and nodded.

“That’s not going to happen, but it’s sweet of you,” she said, sitting back and looking over at her pad again before sighing and shaking her head. “Call more often, alright? I miss you.” She glanced at Ben as she sorted through the dozen messages she had received during the call.

“I miss you too,” Ben said, the words reflexive and true at the same time. He pressed his mouth, something flaring in his eyes that was almost panic. “I love you, okay?”

“Love you too, sweetie,” Leia was smiling, but she was still looking down at her pad. “Be safe out there.” Glancing up, she raised her eyebrows. “You know if you really want help, you should go to your uncle’s. Last bit of advice from your old mom.”

“Last bit, huh?” Ben rubbed his hand over his mouth; when he lowered it, he was smiling again. “I’ll think about it, okay? He was pretty busy last time I was there, but I’ll think about it.” The transmission wasn’t the best, and he trusted the interference to hide the way his eyes had teared up. “Bye, Mom.”

Leia made a noise, and smiled at him, looking up from her pad. She nodded. “Bye, sweetie. May the Force be with you.” It was their long call, the last words they said before they left each other again.

Ben blinked quickly a few times, nodding. He held his mother’s eyes for an extra second, then took a deep breath. “May the Force be with you, Mom.” His hand slid forward almost without his knowledge and terminated the call. He sat back in the chair, taking several deep breaths. He could have written out the script of their conversation beforehand. He had wanted her to say something else, something new. To demand he come home, to ask him to try to describe those thoughts. But her other child was more important to her, and was his elder sibling. The New Republic would always come first.

Once he had his emotions in check, he stood up and put the uniform jacket and long coat back on before walking to the door. The heavy wool of the coat felt like armor, and he welcomed it. He unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. True to his word, Hux was standing just outside.

 

Hux had his pad in hand, sweeping through reports. He had finally managed to catch up on everything since he had woken up. As soon as the doors opened he took a step back and held his pad behind his back, looking over Ben. Even after only knowing him for a little less than a month, Hux knew better than to ask the man how it went.

“Come with me.”

Without saying anything, Ben walked after the general. His long steps were slower, refusing to match Hux’s brisker gait. His jaw was clenched tightly, but otherwise his expression was oddly impassive. The general walked Ben through the ship, avoiding the in-tram and forcing them to travel along the broad length of the _Finalizer_.

“Where are we going?” Ben finally asked as they continued to walk.

“You’ll recognize it soon.”

Ben frowned but didn’t say anything else, mainly watching the set of Hux’s shoulders as he walked. They passed a pair of lifts and a sign that pointed towards the gym level. Hux glanced back at Ben before facing forward again, heading towards the shooting ranges. Checking his pad, he quickly reserved an entire range, and sent a note to Phasma as well, telling her that he needed privacy.

He opened the doors for Ben, tilting his head.

“In.”

Ben nodded once, swallowing as he walked into the range and looked around. It was empty, and he wondered if it had been before or if Hux had cleared it out.

“You’re not dressed for shooting,” he commented.

“If you think a uniform is going to inhibit my aim, you’re mistaken.” Hux shed his coat, draping it over the counter and placing his pad on top of it. “Where do you want to be?” Ben likewise pulled off his coat and then his jacket, tossing them over Hux’s datapad. He pulled his hair back from his face, securing it with a band he kept around his wrist for the purpose.

“I’ll stay center. That’s a good distance; it doesn’t give me as much time to react. Which blaster are you going to use?” They discussed it as though it was business.

“The standard rifle,” Hux said, swiping his cylinder on the armory wall. “Unless you have a preference?”

Ben shrugged, pausing in the middle of the arm swings and stretches he liked to do before they began. It was so easy to sink into routine, particularly when your routine was movement and danger.

“You’re favoring that one a lot recently. Don’t you have anything more challenging?” He stretched his arms over his head, grabbing his wrist as he watched Hux.

Hux made a contemplative noise, frowning. “A blast is a blast; it will tear through you either way.” He pulled the short-muzzled rifle out and laid it on the counter, then checked out a wide-bore sniper rifle as well. “If the bolt if stronger is it harder to block?” He turned with his raised eyebrows the only change in his mild expression, holding the sniper rifle. “Longer range, faster delivery, stronger bolt. Relative to your interests, it will be less easy to predict.”

Ben paused as he was stretching one arm behind the back of his head. He looked at the rifle closely; there was something about it that reminded him of Hux. It had Arrik’s sleek, cold demeanor, his deadly intensity and purpose.The rifle seemed an extension of the other man.

“Can you fire that thing, or just stand there looking like a First Order poster boy with it?” he smirked, rolling out his shoulders again.

Hux pressed his mouth slightly, the corners pulled down. He took a step forward, holding the rifle out to Ben to hold. Ben accepted the gun and hefted it, raising his eyebrows but not saying anything yet. The general turned away from Ben, undoing his jacket before taking it off and folding it carefully over the counter as well. Without his jacket, Ben could see the suspenders and First Order undershirt he hadn’t remembered were under the uniform.

“It’s a nice blaster. But you didn’t answer my question.” The smuggler held it back out to Hux as the man gestured with his hand for it. “Can you fire it? That’s meant for a sniper.”

“I know what it’s meant for.” Hux walked past Ben, going through to the stations and setting up the gun’s stand on the middle counter, pressing a button until it rose up to allow him to hold the gun without leaning over. The targets were sent all the way to the back of the range as soon as he set the training session parameters on the unit by his side. He hadn’t even been standing there for a full thirty seconds before he took a deep breath and let off a series of shots. He wasn’t lying about how they moved; the bolts were faster, shorter, stronger. Across all five screens on all the stations, the target body came up, the seven shots blinking.

Four to the head, three to the chest.

Hux stood up straight, looking over at Ben mildly. The smuggler let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in a rush. His smile, when it came, was slow.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could do that in the first place? I feel cheated.”

“I thought I told you. Even at Arkanis, officers take on an infantry specialization. I chose this.” The general shrugged nonchalantly. He gestured at the still-smoking target; the bolts obviously left more of a mark than the standard blaster rifles. Ben turned his head to look, though he didn’t have to; he’d watched the target each time it was struck. He wanted to watch the face of the man who was shooting.

“Good choice, general. I guess you’ve got a gift for that.” Ben reached up to reset the target. “Show me again.”

Hux didn’t question the request, setting the gun against his shoulder again and looking down the range at the target. He took a deep breath and shot in the pause between inhale and exhale. Seven bolts, again, in between the head and the heart. He shifted again, standing up straight as the target blinked on the stations.

Looking over his scores, he held the butt of the rifle easily, pointing it upwards to lean against his shoulder as he looked over at Ben. Ben nodded as though satisfied.

“Good.” He walked to the next station so he could swing himself over the counter and walk into the range, toward the smoking target. The ozone smell of the spent air was so familiar, even as the fans worked to waft it away. He turned to face Hux.

“Maybe this time you’ll manage to land a shot.” He placed himself directly in front of the target, with his dominant foot already positioned back and his left hand raised, shoulders set back. How had the general known he needed this? He needed to move, to sweat, to forget about his good bye and how his mother had smiled at him as though she could kiss his forehead over that distance. He reminded himself of the sound of her datapad, the incessant beeping and her thoughts following the sound, over and over again. Her concern for him overlaid by that damned beeping. _Mom, I’m having those dreams again_. But what of Coruscant and what of Naalol and what of those disturbances in the Trans-Hydian Borderlands? He knew what to do with it now, how to wrap those words tightly around the dark core of the Force inside himself and how to bring it up through his body as though inhaling. “Go on then.”

Hux took another deep breath and fired a single shot, aiming right for the center of Ben’s chest. He wasn’t about to let a little trash talk distract from his aim. Ben relished the sound of the shot, the pressure he felt in the air as it rushed toward him, then the movement that deflected it to the side.

There wouldn’t be much variety in his shots with this rifle and at this range. This was a high-precision weapon; it wasn’t meant for the same thing that the standard rifle was made for, it wouldn’t work the same way. Hux was almost grateful when he heard the sizzle dissipate against the tiles rather than the slosh of a rifle through flesh, the scream he had imagined would come from Ben’s throat.

The smuggler locked eyes with Hux for a moment. There was no denying this was faster, more intense. His heart rate had spiked immediately and it felt good, it felt so real to him. He adjusted his stance slightly, remembering diagrams in the texts he’d been studying. There were accepted Jedi maneuvers for deflecting blaster bolts, though many of them were lightsaber forms. He was bored with them. He wanted to try other things, other ways of moving. He gestured with his right hand as he held it higher, palm out as though prepared to push the bolt away from his body.

“Again.”

Hux let Ben call him then took another shot, watching Ben’s movement through the rifle’s scope. The general had seen Ben’s shoulders when he left the comm room. He didn’t even need to speak to him to know that Ben needed to be pushed into an environment where he felt in control, where he felt powerful and strong. After each deflected shot, Ben shouted to Hux again; each time, he tried to perfect the form for which he had no teacher but an ancient book and a man who was willing to shoot at him to let him train. He wanted a lightsaber in his hand again; he wanted that extension of his arm and the Force that would let him move through all the techniques. He would have no more limits. His uncle kept his lightsaber, the lightsaber that had been his and before that Anakin’s, locked away. For safe keeping, Ben. Safe for whom? How long would he keep it, dangle it over his nephew’s head, until he gave it to another student? How long until he gave up on him?

For Hux, this wasn’t a challenge. It was a test. He watched Ben carefully, he had to, examining his every move, his stance, what his expression changed into after every shot, before the general fired.

“Faster!” Ben yelled, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. “I know you’re better than this!”

Hux hesitated, but only for a second. He knew he was better, but he didn’t know how much Ben could take. Licking his lips, he nodded once and set his jaw. It was the only warning he gave before he fired three shots in quick succession. Ben deflected the first two shots as smoothly as the ones before it, but the rapidity of the third made his form less stable for a moment. He deflected the shot at the last minute, falling to one knee when he lost his balance. It hissed against the ceiling before dissipating.

Hux glanced up, but he kept the muzzle of his gun trained on Ben.

Ben stood up, shoving his hair back from his forehead and out of his eyes where it had come loose. He rolled his shoulders back and then rotated both wrists before stepping back into his starting position. His eyes were slightly feral when they met Hux’s.

“Again!”

He exhaled slowly, turning his head to watch Ben down the scope. He nodded once and fired the same three shots.

Despite the fact that Arrik was shooting at Ben, it was an act of trust. He wanted to push Ben, he wanted to force him into a place of power but keep control of him at the same time. It was a strange kind of exercise, where Ben was ordering his firing squad to shoot. It was trust, knowing one another, and right now, Hux wanted to give Ben what he wanted.

Ben held firmer on that volley, his movements broader and more instinctive. He felt the Force in heavy strokes, in wide swaths of dark red and charcoal black; his movements echoed what he felt, moved with what he saw in his mind without seeing it. He was fast enough to dodge the final bolt and grinned without mirth. No limits.

“Again!” he shouted, chest heaving as he set his weight down into his heels and raised his hands.

Hux nodded. Ben looked strong. He looked steady. The general’s aim didn’t falter.

Three more shots rang out, quicker than the last volley. Ben was impossibly fast with them; he sent two bolts to crash into the exact same spot on the left wall. The third he deflected back, hitting the wall behind Hux and destroying a tiny notice that had been pinned up. Ben didn’t know what had been written on it, and now he never would; it was destroyed completely.

“Again!” He didn’t reset his position, standing as he’d finished with his shoulders slightly down and soft knees, center of gravity lowered.

Hux paused, and then let out one shot, aiming for Ben’s head. Ben shouted angrily and brushed it aside as though it had never been a concern. It crashed into the wall and he took a step toward Hux.

“Again!”

He didn’t look up, didn’t move, and shot again, hair falling out of place. Ben used his open palm Force shove to push it to the other side, still walking forward.

“Again!”

Frowning, Arrik started shooting in a tempo, one shot every four seconds; inhale, shoot, exhale, shoot. He was utterly focused on Ben, on the way he moved, his reactions. It was calculated, precise, every single shot mapped out before he pulled the trigger. The slow approach. Inhale, shoot. Exhale, shoot. For every shot, there was an answering movement for Ben. Step, deflect right. Step, deflect left. His pace was steady but inexorable. No limits. For one shot, he ducked to the side and sent the bolt crashing into one of the other targets that waited for other shooters. After then, he deflected the shot to the wall behind Hux. It was trust, its reversal.

Hux didn’t stop shooting, but his pulse was rising as Ben approached slowly. The smell of the range burning behind him didn’t alter his aim, and he continued until Ben was twenty meters away before he raised the muzzle, standing up straight. He put the heel of the gun in the palm of his hand, watching Ben.

Breathing a little harder, he nodded once.

“Good.”

Ben swallowed and held his eyes, hands still ready.

“Keep going, General.” He spoke the words as a command.

Hux set his jaw, his rifle still pointed up at ceiling. He waiting a few seconds before sliding the heel into his shoulder, aiming at Ben. He seemed too big in the scope, taking up his entire vision. He quickly adjusted the gun, turning the scope to get a clearer view of his living target.

He shot once, holding his breath. A few seconds later, the bolt exploded against the wall behind Hux. Ben took another step forward, right hand out. His fingers were curled and tensed; the general was too observant not to notice they were shaking.

“Again!”

This time Hux didn’t hesitate, although he didn’t breathe in between the shots, staying absolutely steady. Ben knew he was getting too close, that even using the Force to enhance his speed, there was only so much his body could take. More training would make him faster; more study would teach him out to draw on more power. There would be no limits. His intensity would focus Hux; between them, there would be no point at which they would be forced to say ‘no, I can’t.’

Hux stood up straighter, finger still on the trigger. He didn’t need to aim properly, he knew that Ben was directly in the line of fire. He shot one more time, his jaw set.

The smuggler continued to move toward Hux, then paused when the wave of weariness swept through his entire body at once. He took a deep breath, using the momentum of his exhalation to deflect the bolt away from himself before taking another step.

“That’s enough.” Hux said, and this time he took a step back, sliding the gun off the station and flipping the safety on. Ben immediately shook his head, hand still raised expectantly.

“Again, general.” His voice was slightly breathless but with the same tone of command, which had elements of both the Supreme Leader and Hux himself in its undercurrent.

Hux was holding the protected muzzle of the gun, watching Ben carefully. His eyes were hard, and he didn’t break away from Ben’s gaze. He heard it, that slight change in his tone. The temperature in the range had risen a few degrees, the acrid odor of the bolts burning in the rubber in the bay behind him overwhelming his sense of smell.

“You’ve done enough,” Hux said, frowning. “Come here.” It was just barely a command, but he kept his attention on Ben, his tone low. Ben swallowed and shook his head once, almost imperceptibly.

“Again.” It was part command, part request, part begging.

Hux swallowed, teeth set hard against one another for a moment.

“You’re too close.”

“Again.” Ben swallowed, blinking as though there was suddenly a harsh light in his face. “Arrik.”

“You’ve done enough,” he said again, voice even. He tilted his head up slightly. “You did well.”

Ben pressed his mouth, though his shoulders relaxed slightly. Hux didn’t even know what he’d accomplished, the new maneuvers he’d successfully incorporated into his own style.

“I could have gotten closer,” he said, watching Hux’s eyes.

Hux nodded, not fighting against Ben. “Next time.”

Ben didn’t say anything; there was no real response. He walked to the counter where Hux stood so still with the rifle still leaned against his shoulder, gloved hand on the butt of the gun. He wanted to hear it again. How well he’d done.

“It was better, with this rifle,” he said quietly, dipping his chin with the volume of his voice.

“Then we’ll use this.” Hux turned away from the station, putting the weapon down and holding onto the protected muzzle, the butt of the gun on the floor between his feet. “Out from there,” he said quietly, taking another step back to give him room. Ben vaulted the counter, though he stumbled when he landed. It frustrated him; using the power of the dark side had proven to be a fast road to expanding his abilities, but it still drained him after his training sessions. He hoped that training with Snoke accelerated his understanding of it. Thus far, all the Supreme Leader had been able to tell him was that the ties he still had to the light hindered his growth.

“Good.” Ben kept his hand on the counter to steady himself for another moment, then stepped away to pick up his jacket.

Hux followed him, going into the main area and scanning the sniper rifle and unused standard rifle into the armory. He put his jacket on and draped his greatcoat over his arm. He put his hand on the small of Ben’s back, pressing against him. He stood slightly away from him, turned towards him He was watching him carefully as he nodded.

“That was impressive.”

Ben’s mouth opened slightly and he touched the tip of his tongue to the center of his bottom lip. His fist clenched in the fabric of the jacket he’d picked up but hadn’t put on yet.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t form any other reply. Hux spoke so surely, keeping his eyes on his face, and Ben couldn’t look away.

Hux nodded again, moving away from Ben to go to the door.

“I mean everything I say,” Hux muttered, waiting for Ben to follow him out. Ben watched him for another moment, feeling as though someone had trailed a finger up his spine. He grabbed his coat and carried both pieces of clothing as he walked out of the range after Hux.

“I’ve been training intensely,” he said, trying to find his way back to normal conversation. The hair on his arms felt as though he was near electricity. He wanted Hux to keep talking.

“It’s apparent,” Hux said, walking with him to the lift and scanning his cylinder.

Every little comment he get from him proved to intensify that sensation. Ben licked his lips as he waited for the lift. The cooler air of the ship chilled the sweat on his body.

“Phasma has been a valuable sparring partner...though obviously, I can’t use the full extent of some of the things I’ve learned. In general sparring, it seems unfair to use the Force with someone who isn’t a user.” He glanced back to Hux, who seemed completely unmoved by their time at the range. To Ben, it had been an intense experience.

“She is a credit to the First Order,” Hux said quietly as they got into the lift. He had spent too many years keeping himself fixed into this persona to let forty minutes shooting at the range disrupt his demeanor. Despite that, his mind was racing. The lift rose and he was sure that his heart was still up in his kriffing throat. He took a deep breath, nodding.

Ben stepped closer to Hux as the doors closed behind him. There was no reason to; there was plenty of empty space around them.

“She is. Though she’s sort of...stumped when it comes to combatting Force maneuvers.” His speech had changed since he’d come on board the _Finalizer_. His word choice had become more formal, taking the cue from Hux and Snoke and drawing on his experience with his mother. However, he hadn’t fully dropped the mannerisms of his smuggler life. His sentences and tones were mixed, at best.

“This may surprise you, but we don’t cover that in basic,” Hux said quietly as they were dropped off at an in-tram level. He put his hand on Ben’s back again, just for a second, urging him forwards as he walked out to the station. Ben responded to the touch, walking slightly ahead of the general on their way to the tram. He knew the route well; he traveled it fresh at the start of a cycle and back again exhausted at the end, between the range, the gym, the sim pods, the archives. All the non-command areas of the ship.

“I doubt it’s something she’ll need to worry about much in future. There are Force sensitives around, but most of them aren’t even fighting.” He shrugged, willing Hux’s hand closer again. Or for him to say something in that mild, disinterested voice that would make his stomach drop again.

“I’m sure she appreciates the opportunity.” His datapad was probably full of messages but he let them stay. They would wait. “I’ll come by to watch one of these days.”

That pulled a quiet chuckle out of Ben; it felt prickly in his throat, but real. “What do you think you’ll see?”

“I’m not sure; that’s part of the appeal.” Hux raised his eyebrows, pushing his hair back into place as he looked around the tram car.

“I can assure you that you’ll see me winning.” Ben paused, pulling up the right words. “Every single time, sweet cheeks.”

“Phasma takes better to losing than I do.” Hux had turned and again pressed his hand just at the small of Ben’s back for a second as he left the tram, heading towards the lift. Ben watched him walk, then jogged a step to follow him.

“Then you probably shouldn’t tangle with me at all. I win it all. Every game. Every match. Anything. Even Chewie won’t play Dejarik with me anymore.” He could hear himself and he sounded like himself. More or less.

Hux made a noise, waiting for the lift that would take them to the officers’ level. “I’ll be sure to pick my battles carefully.” When the doors open, Ben walked ahead of him. The tension was getting to him, the events of the day were getting to him. So much that ended but didn’t end, no resolution. He felt like a storm that couldn’t break. He was silent as the lift took them up into the ship.

They got off the lift and Hux put his hand against Ben’s back again, pushing him through the level. Ben was still tense, wound up tight and unable to relax. It was obvious that the call with his mother was still echoing in his mind, that there was still something in Ben that Hux needed to address. Ben barely leaned back into the touch as they walked, then let Hux unlock the doors with his cylinder.

Ben forced himself to pull away once they were in the main room of the Commander’s wing. He looked out the wide window that acted as the far wall, looked out into the wide expanse of stars that separated him from everything.

Hux had followed Ben into his personal rooms, watching his back carefully. He put his greatcoat down, glancing over the workstation. Walking over to stand behind Ben, he placed his hands carefully on Ben’s back, one on either either side of his spine, pressing on his ribs. Ben exhaled shakily when Hux’s hands were on him.

“On your knees.”

His voice was firm, but it left room for Ben to refuse. He could say no, and Hux would leave, immediately.

Ben stared past the glass, past the blinking lights on the edges of the ship that he could see, past the stars. This was a choice. Snoke had forced him to his knees and ripped him open to dig through his insides. He didn’t know what Hux would do, but it made his pulse jump. He was power, raw power, and Hux wanted it. Him. He could see the general’s pale, still face reflected in the window. That’s what he saw past the ship, past the stars.

He knelt down slowly, heart jackhammering in his throat.

Hux let out a breath, his hands on Ben’s shoulders. He didn’t move away, standing behind the other man.

“Good.” He took a step back, walking around to sit on the couch. Ben was still kneeling, halfway across the room, and Hux couldn’t look away. The smuggler was breathing hard now, as though he’d just left the range. His arms were down by his sides, hands open and limp by his thighs.

Hux shifted on the couch, still watching Ben carefully.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Ben was silent for a moment.

“I’m thinking about the conversation with my mother. I’m thinking about the sixth and seventh forms of lightsaber techniques. I’m thinking about what it would have been like if you’d fired that rifle when I told you to.” His voice was quiet in the quiet room.

Hux made a noise. “That call wasn’t recorded in any form,” he said, shifting again and pushing his hair back with both hands. “It’s yours.” The general moved slightly, rolling his shoulders back. “I think you could have stopped it. But I didn’t know if you’d be able to control it. I wasn’t sure if you’d hurt yourself or me. I didn’t shoot because you were erratic and exhausted, and there was a higher risk that we would have been hurt.”

“You can’t judge my state, general. How well do you know me?” Ben set his jaw, body tensing as if he’d stand up.

“I said I wasn’t sure,” Hux said mildly, his gaze still easy, not icy but calculating. “But I saw your hands. I made a decision because I didn’t want to risk getting hurt by a deflected bolt that went wrong.”

“My...hands.” Ben didn’t ask for more explanation, and he didn’t protest. “Next time, we’ll push it. Next time, you’ll fire when I tell you to.”

“I will.” Hux tilted his head slightly. “And you’ll be ready.”

Ben stared forward for another moment. The muscles in his thighs tensed again for him to stand.

“Will you be returning to the bridge?” he asked quietly.

Hux nodded once, not looking away from him. “There are operations I need to oversee.”

Should he ask to stand up? Should he just do what he wanted? Ben took a deep breath, ribcage expanding slowly.

Hux shifted forwards slightly, pulling his gloves off. He gestured in front of him.

“Come here.”

The smuggler inhaled again, standing up slowly, every movement controlled. He walked over to stand in front of the couch then looked down at Hux.

“Yes?”

“I meant, come here on your knees,” Hux said, tilting his head to watch Ben, his eyebrows up. “Go back and try again.”

Everything in Ben rebelled, then he swallowed it down. It was a game to play. Hearing the other man speak to him like that made him angry, turned his body red hot. He stood still for a long minute, feeling pressure in his chest. Then he stepped back. One step. Another. He held Hux’s eyes the entire time.

Hux didn’t break his gaze, his face calm and impassive. It was a test, he wanted to see how far Ben was willing to go.

This was the limit.

Ben shook his head once. “I believe whatever you have to say, you can say it with me on my feet.”

Hux kept his eyes on Ben for a few more seconds, enough to draw out the tension between them. Then he leaned back and pulled his gloves back on before he stood, walking past Ben to grab his greatcoat and set it over his shoulders. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t hurt. His face remained absolutely impassive as he went over to the door.

Ben didn’t turn his head as Hux walked, raising his chin slightly until he felt that the man was by his door.

“So you have nothing to say after all?” he asked quietly.

Hux made a noise, opening the door.

“I have plenty to say,” Hux said, stepping into the foyer. “But you don’t want to listen.”

“I’m listening right now, general. Go on. Talk.” Ben turned to watch him, hands still loose by his sides.

“I’m needed on the bridge,” Hux said, his hand on the sensor that would keep the door open. He took a step back and dropped his hand. “We’re done for the day.”

The doors closed, and Hux turned walking out of the berths heading directly to the bridge. Ben stood for minutes that ran together as he caught the breath he hadn’t realized he’d lost.


	6. Chapter 6

Routine was more of a comfort to Ben than he’d expected; he remembered when he’d first come to the Temple, how he’d chafed against the schedule, the strict times, the days when he was expected to wash dishes, sweep floors, make tea. After a shorter time than he’d thought, he found the familiarity something to hold onto. The stability of it had let him focus, and here on the _Finalizer_ , he found that again. With or without Hux.

He waited for the times with Hux. He prepared for those scheduled sessions at the range, making sure that he had new things to show the general each time.

They had three more weeks until they arrived at Arkanis. Three more weeks of their tentative truce, walking in between the strange kind of trust that the two of them had developed. Hux continued to visit with Ben, met with him at the firing range, oversaw some of his training, but on the whole, Hux had bigger plans. He had grander things to worry about than the comfort of a man who seemed entirely capable of entertaining himself.

However, they convened at odd hours, and never for very long.

True to his word, Hux had arranged his schedule to meet up with both Phasma and Ben to watch one of the training sessions. It was far more public than he had originally expected, with a full section of twenty troopers along the sides of the area.

Hux did his best to stay along the edges, finding a seat in the stands, and the troopers gave him a wide berth. He had a good view of the sparring match going on in the ring in front of him, and although he hadn’t announced his presence, he could practically feel the mood in the room change.

Ben had taken to wearing the First Order training gear, black sleeveless shirt with the insignia on the back between his shoulderblades. He had settled himself low to watch Phasma getting ready to attack him again. He raised his chin slightly when he felt Hux walk into the room. He was so aware of him, of the way he moved, how his presence vibrated in the air. It didn’t shake his concentration, and his eyes stayed on the blonde captain in front of him.

Hux kept his datapad on his lap, but he watched the two combatants. Ben’s new attire did not escape his notice. He watched Ben’s waiting stance; he was ready for Phasma’s rush, and he stepped to the side with an effortless gesture. Or a seemingly effortless one.

Phasma recovered quickly; she had learned that when she moved she needed to take three steps to Ben’s one. She had realized that it wasn’t that Ben was faster than her, he just seemed to already be moving before she had even started a real attack. The Force user had no desire to actually hurt her, but he made every session count. He expected her to push him, and she never disappointed; Phasma met his eyes steadily when they were on the mat and Ben knew she watched him the same way from behind her chrome helmet when they passed in the hall. Now, with Hux’s eyes on him, he deflected one of her strikes, then stepped under her arm. He was impressed with her improvement; she was learning his moves and adapting. She immediately turned toward him and her elbow connected with his shoulder. He felt it radiate through the bone and muscle and used that as his focus.

He kicked her away from him, foot pushing her forward before he set it down to advance. Phasma spun on her feet, hands already up, facing him. She was on defense, waiting. Sometimes it wasn’t like this, sometimes they just went into the ring to see who would give up first, who would step back and say that they were tired, hurt, couldn’t take any more hits. Today was more technical. There were forms Phasma knew that he didn’t, and Ben wanted to know them all. He wanted to learn the techniques she had picked up on worlds he’d never heard of, and he wanted to adapt them to his own style, finding the ways the Force could extend a strike, speed a turn. Now he attacked her again, leading with his left when he normally favored his right. When she blocked his first hit, he spun and stayed low, then came up again, nearly pressed up against her side when he pushed her away with a low pulse of the Force.

Hux glanced up from the datapad as Ben forced Phasma back. He wondered absently if Phasma found his use of the Force a challenge or a distraction from the match at hand. He shifted slightly, leaning forward to watch the fight more intently.

Phasma was relentless, and she set her stance as she slid back, kicking off the mat as soon as she was steady. She came back for Ben, already swinging. Rather that deflect her blows, Ben stepped back and let her gain the ground, easily moving his body to either side naturally, ducking his shoulders. He swept back with a smooth movement, then turned to meet her next attack.

All of Ben’s moves were infused with the Force now. As he’d re-immersed himself in the study of it, he saw no reason to avoid it, as he had when working with his father. When he moved he was met with Phasma’s elbow as she ducked low to swing with her whole body towards his torso. This time, Ben tightened his muscles to absorb the blow, then inhaled through the spot, but it wasn’t air he was taking in. He concentrated the Force and increased his speed to duck under her next hit, then came up in front of her to attack in a flurry of strikes.

She turned, bringing her arms up, but he still hit her head a few times before her defenses tightened. She waited until he swung again and then rushed into him, her shoulder hitting his chest. Ben trapped her arm, letting her push him back.

Phasma tried to turn, setting her stance again and moving to punch his side.Ben immobilized her arm before she could connect, catching her wrist and turning her body to drive her back. She made a noise when she realized she caught by Ben, unable to pull away. It took another second but she quickly adjusted her style, ducking down and using her low center of gravity to throw Ben over her shoulder. The man used her own momentum against her; rather than landing his whole body, he landed in a crouch, then jumped back again out of her range when she turned to him. He took a few running steps, feinting around her grab and catching her from behind, with her wrist up against her back. Knowing she’d be trapped for a moment, the smuggler turned his head to glance over at their small audience. The stormtroopers stood in a neat line, helmets under their arms. The single figure in black stood out.

In the stands, Hux watched the fight half-interestedly. As Ben recovered from the toss, he looked down, pulling up a message on his datapad and frowning slightly. It was the bowed head Ben saw, the lights catching on particular copper highlights in the general’s hair. Hux wasn’t even watching. He sat there and paid attention to his kriffing datapad instead.

Phasma took advantage of Ben’s slight distraction and threw her other shoulder and elbow behind, catching Ben’s side. Ben grunted and took a step back. A step he hadn’t intended to take. The impact against his ribs forced his breath out of his lungs in a huff, and when he inhaled, it was angry. At himself, at Hux’s averted eyes, at all of those other things he now knew were his past weaknesses and his present strengths.

He turned to meet Phasma’s triumphant rush with a kick; it was telegraphed and she blocked it, only noticing that it was too easy at the last second. Ben flipped over her answering kick, hitting at her side as he landed (a quick revenge), then spinning until he was behind her. He gave her a shove to the back, enhanced by the Force, then flipped back out of her range before she could recover. Rather than waiting for her, he attacked again, allowing her no openings, dominating their movements to the edge of the mat.

Hux looked up from his pad as he heard noises of increased activity from the mat. He frowned slightly, watching jumps and spins that could only be achieved using the Force. Up until a few seconds ago, Phasma seemed to be fine adapting her own fighting techniques to whatever Ben seemed to be doing. Now it was obvious that she couldn’t find an opening, and it was taking most of her attention to just keep blocking Ben, even as she was forced backwards.

Ben was unrelenting, only allowing Phasma to block so that he could continue his barrage. His blows were heavy, but the movements themselves seemed smooth and light, limbs unbothered by the physics affecting his opponent. When the captain was in danger of stepping off the mat, it was Ben who took several long steps back.

“We’re not done yet, captain,” he murmured, holding his hand up and using the Force to drag her forward to him again.

Hux’s eyebrows shot up. Ben’s ferocity surprised him; that he would so aggressively pursue Phasma when it was just a simple practice match was surprising and, Hux had to admit, much more interesting than the messages on his pad.

Phasma was surprised as well, but she used the momentum to her advantage, letting herself be dragged for a second before crouching down, adjusting her stance so that when she was close enough to Ben, she jumped forward, twisting to hit him again. This time, Ben had no distractions; the general was part of his ferocity, without even knowing it. The fact that he was watching melted into the background. The moment slowed down and he had two options. He could use the training from his uncle, years of learning to duck, to sidestep, to follow the flow of the Force to evade. The part of him that was getting louder whispered the other option. It would be so easy to just stop her, to hold her in the air, squirming to get away from a hold she couldn’t see but could definitely feel, then throw her down.

But in their matches, the unspoken rule was no excessive use of the Force. Nothing that reeked of “magic.” She didn’t seem to mind his speed, his jumps, the way he couldn’t help but anticipate. Ben felt that Phasma took those as just parts of himself, like a person would have better balance or a longer reach. Grabbing her like that wouldn’t just be giving into that voice, it would be breaking a trust.

Ben neatly stepped back as she reached him, shoving sharply at her shoulder and punching twice low on her back to knock her forward. Before she fell, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to himself; their eyes locked and the intensity was almost intimate before he forced her down onto the mat hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

“Now we’re done.” Ben held her there a moment, before standing slowly. Phasma was breathing hard on the ground, and they both knew that she had been beaten, although not without Ben struggling to fight her without using his advantages.

Phasma didn’t remain down long; after a second she pushed herself up onto her elbows and then stood, already gesturing.

“MM-0116, KN-7288, take the mat-”

“Captain,” Hux’s voice rose above hers, and she went quiet, nodding toward him. “I’d like a word with Ben Solo, if you don’t mind.”

Phasma frowned slightly, and then nodded again, gesturing to her troopers to pack up. It didn’t take more than two minutes for them to clear the room, leaving Ben and the general alone in the warm training area. Ben rolled his shoulders, keeping his stance ready as though someone else was going to step up to fight him even with no challengers left. He watched the general where he still stood, unmoved as the room had emptied.

“You don’t enjoy watching?” he asked finally.

Hux made a noise, standing up and walking down from the stands with his datapad held behind his back. He shrugged.

“I did,” he said, keeping his eyes on Ben. “On your knees.”

“You’d give that order to the winner?” Ben asked. It wasn’t a refusal; it was a challenge that had been building.

Hux made a noise, getting down to Ben’s level and walking over to him slowly.

“I wouldn’t give the order to a lesser man.” His tone was light, not pushy, but it had the air of expectation, and he didn’t look away from Ben.

When the general was close to the edge of the mat, Ben took a step forward. A second step took him down into a genuflection, knee bending as he knelt slowly. After a moment, his other knee hit the mat as well.

“All men are lesser men,” he said quietly, looking up at the general.

Hux made a noise, going over to Ben, standing only a few feet away from him. He didn’t deny the statement, let Ben have it. He nodded, holding his hand out slightly, pressing his fingers to Ben’s cheek.

“Close your eyes.”

Ben remembered the slap, remembered Hux’s straight back as he walked out of his rooms.

He closed his eyes, swallowing as he forced his shoulders to relax. He didn’t say anything.

Hux let his hand drop and took a step back. He took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the man kneeling on the floor, breathing hard from the fight, tired but victorious. Kneeling for Hux. He walked around Ben slowly, a few feet away, not touching him. Ben felt his eyes on him and fought the impulse to open his own to watch the general. He was being examined, met and measured.

The general stopped in front of Ben again, keeping his thoughts as calm as he could. He took a deep breath, putting his fingers on Ben’s cheek, turning his face to the side. It went against everything in Ben, letting this man who hadn’t bested him in a fight move him, unresisting. He let it happen, though he set his jaw as his head turned and exposed the long line of his neck.

After a few seconds, testing him, watching him, Hux leaned down to speak in Ben’s ear, his voice so quiet that it would be hard to hear him if he didn’t have his mouth nearly against Ben’s jaw. “You looked strong.”

Ben’s lips parted and his eyelashes moved on his cheeks, though he didn’t open his eyes. He heard the hitch in his breathing, and he knew Hux had to as well. The general was so close to him.

“It wasn’t just an appearance, General. I am strong.” He swallowed, watching to hear it repeated back to him. He wanted to hear it in Hux’s voice.

The officer didn’t move, fingers still on Ben’s jaw. He made a low, humming noise. “You are strong.”

He dropped his hand and walked away from Ben, picking up his pad on the way out of the training area, not saying anything else to the younger man. Ben stayed on his knees, opening his eyes when he heard the doors hiss closed. Only then did he stand up slowly, feeling the tense energy remaining in his body. He wanted him, wanted the General over him, telling him he was powerful, fighting against the unseen hand around his throat, ordering him, pushing that glass into his side.

The smuggler made a frustrated noise, throwing his arm out to call his jacket to his hand before striding out of the room. He had won every match but one on that mat. He knew the only relief he’d get would be in his own mind. When he made it into his berth, he walked to the shower, dropping his sweat-damp training clothes onto the floor. He turned on the water, imagining Hux behind him, watching him. He wanted to hear him again.

The water temperature was too high, but he left it, scrubbing his tired body with the soap that came from the dispenser by the controls. It was scentless, utilitarian. Ben leaned against the wall, forearm up against the smooth surface, hot forehead against his arm.

“You are strong,” he murmured, voice nearly washed out by the water rushing over him. “You are strong.” Ben swallowed and licked his lips, belly clenching as he remembered Hux’s breath on his cheek, his strong fingers on his jaw. “You are strong.”

He held his breath, extending the Force, just enough pressure around himself. He was hard, of course he was, as he was every time the general had walked out on him. Ben gasped a little as he stroked himself, one arm against the wall, other hand in his hair. This wasn’t the first time he’d eased himself to relief with the Force; what kid at the temple hadn’t? But it was the first time with Hux’s voice in his head. Arrik’s voice.

“You are strong,” he muttered again, hand moving to press flat against the wall as his back arched slightly. Ben imagined Hux’s hand on his cock and tightened the pressure around himself, sliding the sensation the way he wanted to to believe the other man’s hand would feel. He grunted when he came, wet fingers digging at the cold tile. The water felt unnaturally hot and for a second he felt he couldn’t breathe. It was exhilarating.

Five minutes later, he stood in front of the mirror, nude and heat-flushed. He looked himself over with an unforgiving eye, then nodded when he held his own gaze. Wiping his hand over the foggy surface, he turned away.

“I’ll show you how strong,” he muttered, walking to his room to dress.

Only a day or so after Hux had observed the fight, he received a notification from Visenya stating that Ben had passed the written pilot’s exam. It was no surprise to Hux, since the man had little else to do and a natural instinct for flying. The general checked the hours Ben had logged and was pleased to see that he had managed to clock in just under seventy at the sim pods. He was sure that Ben had been keeping careful track of all this time, and wondered absently why he hadn’t mentioned it.

The general called up the pilot officer, speaking to him briefly. Hux asked that Visenya ride in the training TIE with Ben for his first few runs, until Visenya approved of his skills, and after that he would be given TIE access, and even tech training if he wanted.

Hux left the majority of the decisions in Visenya’s hands, but he sent the notice to Ben himself. It was curt and informative, telling Ben that Visenya had agreed to give him time in space, that he should report to the garment factory to get fitted for a pilot’s suit, and that he would be able to participate in technicals.

It was late, Hux was already in bed, and he wasn’t expecting an answer. Even though the rotations made it seem like the _Finalizer_ ran on a never ending cycle, he and Ben somehow managed to end up more or less in sync with their sleeping and working clocks. If he let himself believe it was accidental. He had no way of knowing that Ben made sure that it wasn’t coincidence.

Ben was in bed as well, tired but holding out against sleep as though it was also a combatant he had to get the better of. He’d taken to keeping the datapad near his bed during sleep, in his bag when he went through the ship. It was his only communication method; he wanted a wrist comm, but felt that maybe that was getting too involved in the life of the ship. He’d be leaving the _Finalizer_ soon, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be back, one way or another. How much did it matter if he could be in constant contact with General Hux?

At the particular chime, he immediately rolled over in the dark and grabbed for the pad with unerring accuracy. One incoming message. He smiled slowly as he read it, the first pure unsullied joy he’d felt in awhile.

“Ben Solo, TIE pilot,” he whispered to himself, then he laughed in a hushed way as though he was about to be caught talking during a temple meditation session. The response went back to Hux immediately.

_-Hey, that’s great news! Want to come over for a drink to celebrate?_

Hux was still going through his messages and saw the notification pop up less than a minute after he sent the memo to Ben. His eyebrows shot up and he couldn’t help his slightly pleased smirk. Instead of replying back within seconds, he tucked his pad on the charging station.

It was seven hours later, after his early workout, when Hux responded to Ben.

_Will I get my bottles back after? -A Hux_

The answer was on his datapad a minute later.

_-Depends on how well the celebration goes. I have a session with Visenya toward the end of your shift. Let’s eat after that. I’ll cook._

Instead of responding, Hux put an item on Ben’s schedule. It simple said ‘dinner’ and the time listed was exactly forty-five minutes after Ben’s test flight with the Lieutenant. Ben laughed when the notification popped up, then shoved the datapad into his bag before heading down to meet Phasma. On the way, he stopped to be fitted for his flight suit, with the order that it should be ready before his scheduled session. On his way to the viewing room he used to go through the archives, he ordered up the ingredients he needed to make the noodles he’d planned for that dinner that had never happened. Ben found himself smiling throughout his day, nodding to officers as troopers as he passed them, using the Force to playfully toss a piece of fruit into a pretty lieutenant’s hand in the commissary, winking when she looked at him in surprise.

He felt like himself, and there was a sudden strange relief in him. Ben Solo felt like Ben Solo, or the way he believed he should feel. Everything was working out. He thought about Arrik Hux on his too-hard couch, and the way the man would finally yield under his charms. Or he’d yield to that man’s mouth. Either way.

His first time out in a real TIE was everything he’d wanted it to be. While some of the controls were modified for the training model, the speed and maneuvers were his to command. The starfighter flew like it wanted him to challenge it. Visenya’s voice through the comm came through with combinations he should try, moves he could take. And praise. Surprised praise when Ben didn’t struggle with the complex controls or the way the TIE responded to the slightest touch. Ben wanted something to shoot at. He wanted targets and obstacles. The flight instructor had already lined up three more sessions before they’d even docked. Two of them were techs with the group.

When the officer asked how he’d managed to pick this much up from the sim pods, Ben didn’t bother trying to explain the Force, how he felt the TIE roll and bank as though it was an extension of his body. He’d been studying some of the Force manipulation techniques having to do with mech, and his experiments thus far had all been promising. Including this flight. Why hadn’t his uncle ever told him about things like that?

He walked with Visenya to the command station to go over some of his stats. While the officer handed his helmet off to an underling, Ben was happy to keep his under his arm. The glossy black shone under the lighting, catching colored curved highlights from the various screens around the room. He followed the other man over to one of the comm units to look over the run data.

“So, how did I do?” he asked, hearing the expectant glee in his own voice. He knew he’d done well.

“You managed to make it through without an override,” Visenya said, smiling slightly. “Usually I have to take control of a first-timer, but you performed exceptionally.”

Ben’s eyes moved quickly over the data that was coming up on the screen. He took in his own weaknesses- sharp 360 degree turns to the left, deceleration when coming out of post-attack maneuvers, wobble when docking. He compared his speeds against his sim numbers. He could be better next time. Every time after that.

“Will you be along as a passenger on my next run, Lieutenant?” he asked, looking over at Visenya with his own broad smile.

“It’s standard that you have a monitor for the first four or five sessions.” Visenya shrugged, still smiling as he looked over the numbers with Ben. Ben made a thoughtful noise; he wasn’t arguing, just thinking.

“I’d like to add target practice next time,” he said after a second. “There’s no reason to wait on that.”

“That can be arranged,” the lieutenant said thoughtfully, nodding. “We can’t allow you in a technical until you complete a few more runs, but I’m sure that you’ll get there before we reach Arkanis.”

At which point, Ben was pretty sure he wouldn’t be flying very often anymore at all. He took a deep breath and shoved that thought down.

“So...how many more flights, honestly, until I can just be flying solo?” He turned to grin his pun at whoever was standing beside him and was pleased to see Bant on his other side. He hadn’t even noticed her when they’d walked in. Even with her straight posture, she only came up to his chest. He caught her eye and winked, then waited for her reaction rather than turning away.

He would not be disappointed. Bant flashed him a brilliant smile, her green eyes absolutely twinkling. Visenya glanced over, raised his eyebrows and then shook his head, pointing at the screen.

“I’d say three. You may have time to get into one technical, as a special favor to the General, since you won’t be working with our strike team during any real engagements.”

“Are you saying you’re doing the General a solid by letting me fly or that my ace flying is a favor to the General?” Ben asked, keeping his eyes on Bant for an extra second before looking back to the screen. He didn’t want to think about real engagements. He didn’t want to think about what ships the strike team actually shot at.

“Your status is one of…” Visenya made a noise, gesturing. “You are in a rather unique position here. All of the training you’ve received, it’s not usually given out freely,” he explained, taking on the tone of a teacher. “So, yes. Giving you access to all of this is entirely due to the fact that the General has made an exception for you.”

Ben hadn’t been looking for a serious answer, and that one curdled in his stomach. His own merits stripped away from him in a few words, reminding him that he was here by grace of “the General.” Why was his name already known at all the smuggling ports? Why had his opinions been tolerated at Senate dinners? Even the lightsaber his uncle had given him was his because of his name.

Visenya glanced over at him, seeing the expression on the young man’s face fall.

“That’s not to say that your efforts haven’t been exceptional. We wouldn’t have allowed you near a starfighter otherwise. If you’re looking for validation, that in itself should be something to be proud of,” Visenya said, looking forward again. “You are a remarkable pilot.”

There was nothing comforting in that for Ben. His fist clenched by his side. Visenya would have been privileged to have him on his strike team.

“I’m not looking for validation, Lieutenant,” he said quietly, but his tone was much colder. “Thank you for your time, and for your evaluation.”

“I thought you did wonderfully,” Bant chimed in, smiling over at Ben. “No General needed.”

Visenya rolled his eyes, but threw Ben a casual salute. “Let me know when you’d like to go out again,” he said, taking a step back. “Commandant.”

Bant saluted the Lieutenant as he turned to leave, and then grinned up at Ben again. Ben didn’t move until he heard the doors close behind Visenya. He turned his head to find her smile there waiting for him.

“Did you watch the whole thing?” he asked, gloved thumb running along the bottom edge of the helmet he was still carrying.

“I watched most of it,” she said, turning towards him slightly. “I do have a hangar to manage.”

Ben felt his smile slowly returning, partially through sheer force of will. Her attention came easily, and it was a slight salve to his wounded pride.

“Aw, come on,” he coaxed, leaning toward her slightly. “You see that stuff every day. This was my maiden voyage as a TIE pilot.”

Bant chuckled, glancing out at the hangar. Behind her half a dozen petty officers continued operations as normal, directing infantry to certain ships that needed attention and sending tech crew to double check engines and wing positions.

“It was not as thrilling as some first time pilots,” she said, leaning over to adjust the temperature of a certain wing, turning off power to allow more to be siphoned to populated hangars. “Which is a compliment, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” Ben leaned on the divider between her station and the next. “I’m guessing it would have been much more exciting if I’d run back into the side of the ship.” He smiled a little bit more as he watched her. “If it helps at all, I was injured.”

“Injured?” Bant turned to him, amused and skeptical. “You don’t look hurt.”

“Well, I mean, those hatches are pretty small,” Ben said, unable to keep himself from smiling as he pulled his arm up. “I knocked my elbow pretty good. I’d show you, but I’d have to take the whole top of the flight suit off.”

Bant looked away from Ben, putting her hand over her mouth and shaking her head. She chuckled, looking down again, amazed.

“Well, Captain Solo, if you’re that concerned I can refer you to the infirmary. I’m sure they would be happy to check you over.”

“Nah, I always get nervous around infirmaries. Too many sick people.” Ben grinned as he watched her bowed head, her hair pulled in so neatly below her cap. “Besides, I only share my battle scars with a select group of people.”

“I’m not sure a bruised elbow counts as a battle scar,” she said, still smiling as she managed the starfighter hangar with a practiced efficiency.

“Well obviously that’s not my only one.” He gestured vaguely to himself with the hand that was slung over the divider. “Obviously, you can’t really see the others at the moment either.”

“Mhmm,” Bant hummed, smiling as she worked. She glanced over at Ben, eyebrows up. Ben was watching her and he grinned when he met her eyes. He could do with a warm up.

“I mean...I could show you if you had a break coming up and somewhere with enough room to unzip this thing?” he offered, dropping his voice as he leaned in closer to her.

Bant kept her eyes forward, but her smile turned into something a little more wicked. She shrugged once, glancing from her station to the outside hangar.

“It just so happens that I am relieved at the end of this shift,” Bant said, matching Ben’s tone. “I’m sure that I could find a place.”

“I have half an hour. Do you think we could find that place together in that time?” he asked, watching her smile. He could definitely make Bant’s knees go shaky, run back to his berth, shower, and change before Hux showed up.

Bant made another noise. “I’m afraid I can’t leave my post for another hour,” she said, still smiling. Ben wrinkled his nose in disappointment.

“That’s too bad. This ship’s got too many schedules going on.” He made a noise and extended the Force just enough for her to feel it against her chin, lightly tugging her face over to look at him. “But I’m hoping that doesn’t mean we can’t find another time.”

Bant’s eyebrows shot up, and she couldn’t school her surprised expression fast enough. She blinked twice in quick succession and then beamed at Ben, tilting her head to the side, a slight blush rising. “I certainly look forward to that.”

“Not more than I am,” he said, stepping back from the station and winking at her. “Have yourself a nice evening, alright?”

“You too, captain,” she said, smiling brightly.

He grinned his way back to his berth, setting the helmet down carefully on the replacement side table in his sitting room. He stepped back and looked at it, then leaned in to rub a smudge off the side before heading toward his bathroom. The crate of ingredients was waiting for him. He’d have time, he reflected as he got into the shower, to even work on that junk piece for the _Falcon_ while he waited for the general, if he was quick.

By the time his datapad beeped to remind him of his scheduled meeting with the general, Ben Solo was clean, the water was ready to boil in the carafe for the noodles, and he had his clean sleeves pushed up from his dirty hands as he bent over the workbench, patiently working the broken end off the rusted threads of the piece he wanted.

Hux was late. It was both unlike him and not entirely unexpected that he would put off a social engagement in favor of pressing matters on the bridge. It was thirty minutes after their scheduled time before Hux finally knocked on Ben’s door, still frowning at his pad as he took a step back.

At first, Ben had lost track of the time himself, immersing himself in the careful scavenger work he did enjoy when it meant improving his beloved ship. But when the timer he’d set to remind himself to go start the spicy sauce sounded, he realized how late Hux was. Every second every that was a quiet insult and a tick to measure his anger.

Until he heard the knock on his door, and he felt his mood swing again, the way his bad mood had melted under the chance to make Bant smile at him, to praise him for his flying. He half jogged to the door, hitting the control panel with his elbow when he realized his hands were still covered in powdered rust and dark lube from the workbench.

“Oh, hey. I figured something had blown up and you weren’t coming.” Ben smiled crookedly and stepped back to let the other man in.

“Nothing quite so dramatic. A meeting ran late and everything was pushed back,” he said, tucking his pad under his arm as he entered. Ben walked a step behind him as the general walked toward the couch.

“Well, I just need to soften the noodles in the bowls, but I figured you’d want to see it.” Ben shrugged and smiled a little. “Though I can’t tell if you like food or not. Like...as a rule.”

“I eat mostly because I have to.” Hux said, looking up at Ben, eyebrows up. “Where should we sit?” Ben tagged the general’s sleeve and gestured to the small table. There were large bowls sitting in front of two places, along with glasses of a cloudy orange liquid.

“Have a seat. The noodles are already in the bowls; I just need to grab the water.” Ben couldn’t hide the fact that he was excited. “You haven’t had these before, right? Chaka noodles?” He walked to the galley kitchen to grab the carafe of hot water.

“Some kind of it.” Hux said, sitting down and putting his pad on the end of the table. “Did you get out in a TIE?”

Ben grinned as he walked back to the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I did! I’m hoping to go out tomorrow too...but I’m still in the training stage, so I have to have Visenya with me.” He grabbed the salt dish and liberally sprinkled it over the noodles in Hux’s bowl, then poured the hot water into the bowl.

Hux’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced from the bowl to Ben, looking a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t entirely used to this, and it threw him slightly off balance. “That is standard procedure.”

As the hot water hit the noodles, they softened and turned clear. Ben grabbed for the little metal container of sauce he’d made and poured that over the clear noodles; they absorbed the sauce and the color, ending up a rich amber color.

“Oh...I should have asked how spicy you actually want them,” he said, looking over at Hux’s face. “Sorry about that.”

Hux frowned slightly, glancing up at Ben. He shook his head once, his expression bordering between confused and distrustful.

“It’s fine.”

Ben frowned to himself; Hux’s passivity seemed strange, but he walked over to his own dish to prepare the noodles.

“Well, if you like them even spicier, then you can use the extra sauce. Chewie usually finishes it.” He looked over at Hux and smiled, sitting down. “No celebratory booze tonight?”

Hux blinked and then made a noise.

“I forgot,” he sounded almost surprised. “I’ll get it.” He stood up, fingers brushing over his pad before he took a step away from the table. Ben’s frown deepened and he stood up, watching Hux walk away from the table. He was tempted to try to feel for Hux’s mind, to see if there was anything he could get from him, but he knew the general would know he was looking. Instead, he just walked over and picked up the datapad, then opened one of the cabinets and slid it behind the towels before walking back to sit at his place.

Hux left to go into his rooms, feeling as if Ben were playing some intensely sincere game he didn’t know the rules to. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair before going to his liquor cabinet, despite being two bottles fewer was no less impressive. He pulled out a dark brown bottle flecked with gold, the script around the body read ‘ _Eleanor’s Breath_ ’ in an old form of aurekbesh; a well-known rum among smugglers.

Hux took a deep breath in his own quarters, centering himself before he took off his greatcoat and headed back into Ben’s rooms, not knocking.

Ben sat up when he saw Hux walk back in, grinning at the bottle in his hand.

“So what did you bring me? Come on over, the noodles are getting cold.”

Hux made a noise, holding it out to Ben as he sat down and picked up his utensil. “Rum.” Ben stood up to take the bottle, eyebrows shooting up.

“What’re you doing with Eleanor in your cupboard, huh? I didn’t know you were swinging that way.” He chuckled as he pulled the cap off the bottle and poured a modest amount into two glasses, then set one down in front of Hux. “Should we make a toast?”

“I made the last one,” Hux said, returning to his usual slightly aloof tone. He gestured, with the glass, setting his fork down and holding the rum up. “Your call, Captain.”

“Huh...do you want something traditional?” Ben watched Hux’s face carefully, trying to read his pale eyes.

“Surprise me.”

Ben thought for a minute, making a thoughtful sound as he lowered his glass. He smiled and raised his glass again.

_“Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal_  
_Vebor'ad ures aliit_  
_Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se_  
_Kote lo'shebs'ul narit.”_

It was more chanted than spoken, the harsh words surprisingly natural in the smuggler’s mouth. On the last word, he leaned over and tapped his glass against Hux’s, then held his eyes as he took a gulp of the rum.

Hux took a sip, eyes not leaving Ben’s. He set his glass down, making a noise. “Will you translate?”

Ben sat down again, grinning down at his noodles before looking up at Hux again.

“It’s an old drinking chant; Mandalorian mercenaries came up with it...well, I don’t know how long ago, but long enough to let it end up tradition.” Ben took another sip, then reminded himself that he was not going to get drunk this time. “The actual translation would blister your virgin ears, but the easy way to read it is…’a pint of drink, a pint of blood: these buy men who don’t have a name. We don’t care who wins your war because the reknown goes to you anyway.’”

Hux made a noise, picking up a scoop of noodles and the other vegetables in the bowl. He took a bite, winced slightly at the sharp spices that hit him, and then looked up at Ben. He shook his head, turning away, brushing the back of his hand against his nose. Undignified didn’t even begin to describe how he felt right now, his face flushing slightly.

“It’s hot. Not...so bad. But you obviously take it spicier than I do.”

Ben laughed and jumped up, grabbing a glass of water from the center of the table and walking it down to Hux.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to burn out your gullet.” He leaned against the edge of the table. There was something so strangely uncertain about the general tonight.

Hux nodded, taking the water.

“It’s well done.”

“I know what to do with spices. I was sort of surprised by how many I could actually get here. From your galley, I mean. Though I should have guessed, based on your liquor cabinet.” Ben waited a few seconds, then walked back to his own seat. “So what was your important late meeting?”

Hux shrugged, and continued to eat. He was getting used to the spices, enjoying the meal much more than he realized. The bland foods he usually ate seemed to taste like nothing in comparison to these noodles.

“Nothing critically important, but everyone seems to have an opinion on where the next trooper station will be. And you practically have to beat a real opinion out of Phasma when she’s annoyed.”

“You should have invited me. I probably could have sorted it out quick.”

“You don’t have rank,” he pointed out, looking up at Ben, eyebrows up. “I don’t think you get to have an opinion on military matters.”

“I have them anyway. Maybe it would do you good to get a more...objective view.” Ben had gotten to the bottom of his bowl and he sat back comfortably. “I mean, you’re all just going to say the same thing. I have different things to say.”

“Even if that is the case, those meetings required a level of classified access that you don’t have,” Hux explained, taking a sip of his water. “I’m not sure if you’re being facetious or not.”

“Me? You know I’m a really serious type of guy, General Hux.” Ben gestured to Hux’s bowl. “Still hungry? I think I’ve got some more noodles.”

“If you can get me something less spicy,” Hux said, sitting back with his water. “I’ll take another bowl.”

Ben smiled and walked over to pick up the bowl, very pleased to see that the other man had finished the noodles, spicy or not. But then again, the general had eaten everything he’d ever made for him.

“I actually made something for after the noodles. Pour us some more rum and I’ll go get it.” It was a ridiculous thing to be proud of, but he was always proud when people ate what he made and seemed to enjoy it. He headed back to the galley, already talking as he walked back to the table. “Okay, I don’t know if this set up right, but you like blue milk custard right? I think I took the whole officers’ ration of bantha milk, but it’s worth it.” He set the bowl down in front of Hux, eyebrows up already.

Hux didn’t say anything, but he did pour them both a few more fingers of the rum. He glanced over his shoulder, and frowned as Ben came back with the two bowls, and he seemed confused by the dessert in front of him. He looked from the blue yogurt looking dish to Ben, eyebrows up.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had this.”

“It’s not really something you get across the galaxy; it’s sort of a local specialty. Well…” Ben laughed as he sat down again. “I don’t know if specialty is the word we’re looking for. It’s a Tatooine thing...we had it at the temple sometimes, when my uncle had a hankering for it. That’s where I learned to make it.” He picked up his spoon and looked at it, then smiled over at the general. “Try it!”

Hux looked skeptical, eyebrows up. He looked from Ben to the blue custard and back again, absolutely confused.

“Try it?”

“Eat it, sweet cheeks! It’s not just for looking at.” Ben took a spoonful of his own and offered it across the table. “Open up…”

“No,” Hux said, frowning, leaning back, away from Ben . “This looks like fuel waste, not food.”

“Seriously? You won’t even try it?” Ben ate the spoonful he’d been holding out to Hux. He made a delighted noise, nodding appreciatively. “It’s good. Pretty good. A little runny, but good.”

Watching Ben for a few more seconds, Hux picked up his own spoon and took a small bite of the custard, looking down at the bowl after taking a steadying breath. He put his spoon down, making a noise, turning his head to the side.

“That’s so sweet.”

Ben watched him, frowning a bit.

“Well, sure. It’s a dessert. Were you expecting it to taste like noodles? Custard! It’s a custard…” He trailed off, watching the other man swallow. “You’ve had sweet things like that I’m sure. On Arkanis, right? When you were a kid?”

Hux shook his head, putting the spoon down. He looked up at Ben and then took another bite of the custard, mostly to appease the other man.

“Not really.”

“Huh.” Ben watched him eat that bite, the tight distaste at the corners of his eyes. When he’d been a kid, he’d been ecstatic when blue milk custard followed a meal. It had been the highlight of his week. “You don’t have to eat it,” he said finally. “I’m not looking to punish you with dessert.”

Hux made a noise, glaring as he looked up at Ben. “I’m attempting to be polite,” he said tightly. He shook his head, looking down at the custard, and took another bite. “It’s well made even if it’s not to my tastes.”

Ben felt his own expression tightening as he watched, as though he was suffering through the custard along with his guest. He laughed and put his hand out, Force pulling Hux’s bowl away from him and letting it settle out of reach.

“Don’t eat it if you don’t like it! You’re giving me indigestion just watching you choke it down.” He wrinkled his nose at the other man, still smiling. “We’ve got Eleanor to keep us company; we don’t even need dessert.”

Hux sighed through his nose, but didn’t argue, taking a sip of his rum instead. It wasn’t as potent as the other liquors that he had given Ben, but it was more flavorful, deep and rich, settling into your throat and making every sip more satisfying. Ben sat back with his own glass, leaving the custard untouched between them. He wasn’t worried about them going to waste; he had every intention of eating both for breakfast.

“Tell me about Arkanis,” he said after another sip of the rum. “What should I expect when I get there?”

“Rain,” Hux said immediately, taking another sip and sitting back. “A lot of marshland. Not a lot of buildings.”

“I remember seeing pictures of the buildings on the northern land masses. The training buildings of the old academy.” Ben gestured with his glass. “Banners and cadets, all of that. The holos didn’t make it look like it was raining.”

“Some of those places were underground. Or they double marched the cadets out when the rain let up. But it’s nearly constant.”

“Bet you get a lot of rainbows then though, right?” Ben smiled as he sipped from his glass, keeping his eyes on the man across the table from him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever made it to the Hapes Cluster, but there’s a planet there with a lot of rainfall, but the drops themselves are multicolored. My father was traveling the Rynmar Trail hyperlanes to drop my mom off for a big meeting thing, and we stopped there, all three of us.” It was obviously a happy memory for the man; he glanced to the side as he remembered his mother laughing and slapping at his father’s hands while he unplaited her long braids in the rain.

Hux stayed still, frowning slightly as Ben retold the childhood memory. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Sounds nice.”

“I’d take you there.” Ben licked his lips and looked back to Hux. “If you’re not allergic to the Inner Rim, I’ll take you there. The _Falcon_ won’t even mind the trip.”

Hux was still frowning as he watched Ben. He shook his head once.

“I don’t have the time.”

It was the easiest way to tell the man no. Even if one wasn’t as perceptive as Hux it would be obvious that this was something kind, vulnerable. He swallowed and looked to the side, taking another sip of the rum, trying not to think about what it meant that Ben Solo wanted to take him to the planet where he shared sweet memories with his family.

Hux had done nothing to deserve that.

“You don’t have time?” Ben laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a general! You’ve got to have some paid leave hanging out in your files somewhere. Just a quick trip, back before Supreme Leader even knows you’re gone.” It was a genuine offer; there was nothing self-serving in it. He watched Hux with frank dark eyes. This wasn’t the firing range where they faced each other with breathless control. This wasn’t the comm hall where they fought for their walls and their identities. This wasn’t even the couch in the other room where Ben had every intention of making Hux moan his name later on. This was just Ben Solo, offering a plan, as he’d offered dessert. When he felt like this, the dark receded until he could forget about it for a little while.

“The reason I don’t have time is precisely that. I’m a general. I have duties that cannot be abandoned.” Hux’s voice was even, controlled and not unkind. He looked down, unable to hold Ben’s gaze for long. As though Ben wouldn’t be able to hear straight through weak excuses. His father had made a career of them; his mother shot through them like blaster bolts.

“You’re a general, not the only general. I’m pretty sure someone could pick up the slack while you recharge. If we took the Great Rim Route, we could probably make a few stops on the way that would make us quick money, maybe get you a tan.” Ben’s grin was sudden and huge. “Though it’s more likely we’d end up in another Tyrakos situation, with you about to be burned to a crisp by any break in the clouds.”

Hux let out a breath through his nose, frowning. He looked up again at Ben, his expression slightly harder.

“I do not have time to go on a smuggling run through the inner rim, Ben.”

Ben sat back, both hands raised in the mocking surrender gesture he’d learned from several leading men in his life as he grew up.

“Fine, fine, no smuggling. Just straight out holiday. Can you do that? How many days time off do you have? We can make it work.” He stood up and leaned over to pour more run in Hux’s glass.

“Has anyone ever told you to learn to take no for an answer?” Hux asked lightly, holding onto the glass, not taking another sip, watching Ben.

“Well, there’s two sides to that question, so I’ll answer them both.” Ben didn’t drink either; he just cradled the bottom of his cup in the palm of his hand as he leaned back. “First of all, no, I really didn’t. Wouldn’t make it that far as a smuggler if you turn tail at the first whiff of the negative you get. And second of all, well...you didn’t actually say no, sweet cheeks.”

“I believe I’ve said no more than a few times,” Hux said, shifting slightly in his chair. Some of the awkwardness he had held in his shoulders was gone as he ventured back into familiar territory. Now that Ben wasn’t trying to feed him or take him on vacation, he seemed to be back in his depth. It was impossible for Hux to be comfortable in situations like this; calm and unhurried, domestic and familial. He was a man who had grown up without the coddling of family, without the attention and affirmation of his kin. This situation was new and almost unwelcome in its warmth.

Realizing this, Hux felt envy shoot through him like a bolt. Ben was so comfortable here, in the strange in between of friends and rivals. Ben with his family, with his past that read like a storybook, with all the power in his hands. It seemed as if everything had been given to Ben, as if the worst fight he had ever encountered was the one he fought against himself.

“Nah, you danced around the what ifs, but you never actually said no,” Ben pointed out, then stood up. “Come on. I’m guessing you’re having a hard time even looking at the custard. Let’s go sit down in the other room. I’ll clean up later on.”

Hux swallowed, pushing down the petty feelings. They didn’t matter. He stood up, taking a sip of his rum as he walked over to the couch, sitting down at the far side, taking a deep breath. Ben followed him and flopped down as though the couch would be more soft this time, then put his boots up on the low table by the sofa, ankles crossed. He slouched as though that was the only real way to use the furniture, and Hux was the one who was doing it wrong.

“I talk about myself too much for you, huh?” Ben looked over at the general and smiled. He glanced down and saw the remnants of grease under his fingernails. He felt good, he reflected. This was fun, like flying the TIE or flirting with Bant or working on that salvaged piece. It was easy to think of his family. He allowed himself to miss them. “That’s only because you leave too much open space! Come on! Drink enough to talk to me.”

Hux made a noise, frowning. “You talk too much about yourself because you think too much of yourself,” he said softly, crossing his legs. And sitting back against the couch, back still straight.

“Now you’re talking about me. That’s not what I asked for. I’m being polite! We’re doing this like a Senate dinner. I talked, now you talk. And I’ll ask questions, because that’s how conversations actually work.” Ben took a small sip of his rum.

“I’m not a Senator,” Hux said, his tone bordering on annoyance.

“No, you’re not,” Ben agreed. “And your conversation skills are almost nonexistent.” He winked at Hux, then took a deep breath as he looked around the room. “Oh! You didn’t even compliment my helmet.” He gestured with the glass to the place of prominence he’d given the black helmet on top of an empty cabinet (in fairness, nearly all his cabinets were empty; he didn’t have anything to put in them).

“I don’t usually have need of them,” Hux said, looking over at the helmet. He nodded, glancing back to Ben. “Congratulations.”

It was as though the slight camaraderie they’d had before had melted into nothing. Ben frowned and looked down into the glass.

“Yeah, Visenya seemed pleased with my run. Though he did point out it didn’t mean much; I’ll never be in a combat situation with your teams.” He took a deep breath and looked over at Hux again.

Hux shrugged again, turning the rum glass slowly. “Those blasters aren’t just for show. Unless you’re willing to pull the trigger in a combat situation, the technicals are just for your entertainment.”

“Would you like that?” Ben didn’t look away from Hux, even though the other man wasn’t looking at him. “Would you like if I was a TIE pilot here on your ship? Under your command?”

Hux frowned, looking up at Ben. “I’d think the station too low for you.”

“I’ve seen the pilots, compared to other positions on the ship. I’ve talked to them, pretty extensively. They seem to have an elevated station compared to others. They command a lot of respect. They demand esteem.” Ben looked over at his new helmet again. “What position would suit me better then?”

“You should be a Knight,” Hux said, shrugging. He took a sip of the rum and looked forward again. “You would be wasted in a TIE.”

Ben was quiet for a minute. He still didn’t quite know what that entailed, even for all the questions he’d asked Snoke. Everything ‘would be revealed,’ but as the fulfillment of that promise drew closer, he found himself full of doubt over this nebulous order he was supposed to be training with.

“I wouldn’t be yours to command then, huh? I won’t be, if that all works out.” He looked down into his glass again.

“No, but you’ve hardly proven yourself to be good at following orders,” Hux said, glancing over at Ben, eyebrows up.

“I can think of a couple times I did.” Ben turned his glass in his hand. “There didn’t seem to be much benefit for me.”

Hux made another dismissive noise, shrugging. “You hardly lasted long enough.”

“Try me,” Ben challenged suddenly, but he was smiling broadly as he said it. He set his glass down on the table as he sat up, shifting over to put himself closer to Hux.

Sighing, Hux tilted his head back, looking over at Ben. Ben met his eyes, still smiling.

“Why do you always look at me the way you looked at that blue milk custard, huh?” He leaned his cheek against the back of the couch, turning to sit sideways with one leg underneath himself.

“I don’t think you knew how I looked at custard until a few minutes ago,” Hux said mildly.

“Believe it or not, I’m able to look at present and past events and synthesize the information together.” Ben wiggled his eyebrows. “It’s almost like I’m part droid.”

“Jokes like that are why you’re the human equivalent of custard,” Hux muttered, turning away and taking a sip of rum.

“Because I’m too sweet?” Ben grinned as he asked the question, guessing it wouldn’t even be graced with an answer. He remembered Bant’s wide, surprised eyes (bright bright green, really nice eyes) and wanted to see that mirrored on Hux’s face. It was an easy Force trick anyway, the light pressure against the general’s chin to gently pull his face to look at Ben.

Hux was not as surprised and delighted as the hangar commander, and his eyes narrowed as he was forced to look over at Ben. The smuggler didn’t know why he’d expected any other expression, now that he thought about it. He chuckled a little and leaned in closer.

“Should I have just used my hand?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t touch me,” Hux said, frowning deeper and sitting up a little straighter.

“You afraid of me all of a sudden? What’s going on with you tonight?” Ben sat up as well, hooking his arm around the back of the couch. He watched the general with perplexed eyebrows.

“I have never been afraid of you,” Hux said, glaring.

“You’re not afraid of the custard. But you’re afraid of something.” Ben didn’t say it, but it was obvious that he could feel it.

Hux made a noise, shaking his head. He sat back, staring determinedly at the opposite wall. “We have eaten and toasted to your accomplishments. I don’t think there’s much else you require of me.”

“Require of you?” Ben frowned and sat back as well. “I asked you here for dinner, not because I wanted anything, Arrik.”

Hux made a face, looking over at Ben, he shook his head. “Why did you ask me for dinner?”

“To spend some time with you. Not work time.” Ben smiled a little and leaned in toward him again. “And you can’t say you don’t have time; I’m right on your schedule.”

“Spend time doing what?” Hux asked, eyebrows up. The smuggler (Could he consider himself a smuggler anymore? He desperately wanted to; this was him, this was how he spoke, how he acted, how he moved in so smoothly, how he drank, how he laughed. He was the captain of the _Millennium Falcon_ and he’d go back to her, after he just learned a little more about himself…) raised his eyebrows, smile wider as he reached over to put his fingertips against Hux’s chin.

“What we’ve both been thinking of for months.” It would feel good; it would explode the tension between them. As he leaned down to put his mouth against the other man’s, he told himself that Hux’s lips wouldn’t actually be cold.

Hux’s frown deepened as Ben touched him, and he immediately stood up, glaring down at at Ben. Ben was surprised by the sudden movement and he blinked up at the general. He had not misread him.

“What?” He grinned and gestured with one negligent hand. “You want to head to the bedroom?”

“No,” Hux said, shaking his head. “I don’t.” He took a deep, steadying breath, frowning. “You will stop this.”

“I can. But do you really want me to?” Ben watched his face. This was nothing like their times together before, when suddenly the air in the room would thin and Hux would watch him as though he could pick him apart and kiss him until they were both bruised.

Hux took a deep breath, setting his shoulders. He seemed to finally get his second wind about him, and he felt as if he finally had some more bearing.

“I mean what I say,” He glanced to the table and then back at Ben. “Where is my datapad?”

Ben shrugged and leaned back into the sofa again, lacing his fingers behind his head and putting his boots up onto the table again.

“Where you left it, I guess,” he drawled, tilting his head as he looked up at the general. If he wanted to play this game, they could play it.

“It is not where I left it,” Hux said, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t play cute.”

“I guess you’ll have to find where you lost it, sweet cheeks.” Ben raised his eyebrows. This wasn’t just Hux playing hard to get. This was him ruining an evening. Ben felt his mood darkening even as his expression remained unconcerned.

“Ben,” Hux frowned, shaking his head. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll leave. We’re done.”

“Done? So early? You’re kidding. I’ve barely even been insulted yet.” Ben dropped his arms and set forward, eyes intense on Hux’s. “Why did you come tonight, general?”

“You asked me to come,” Hux said, and for him it was that simple. “Why did you ask me here? If you wanted a lay you have your pick of petty officers.”

“Does it really seem that weird that I wanted to spend time with you? Maybe say thank you for speeding up my chance to get into a TIE? Do you have to make everything like this?” Ben shook his head and stood up, wanting the minor height advantage.

“Like what?” Hux’s voice was hard, and spoke softly. He didn’t back down from Ben, his chin up.

“This!” Ben gestured with a sharp motion of his hand. “You physically can’t enjoy yourself. You have to turn everything sour.”

“And you treat everything like a joke,” Hux sneered back, his shoulders set. “You can’t take anything seriously.”

“It’s dinner and drinks, not declaring war! Would it have killed you to let go for an hour? Two?” Ben heard his voice getting louder as his wounded pride asserted itself.

“What are you trying to prove right now?” Hux’s face contorted, glaring at him. “Is this how you’ll react every time you don’t get what you want?”

“You won’t even admit what you want! Is that a parting lesson from your daddy?”

Hux almost growled, taking a step forward, reaching up to take a hold of Ben’s shirt, pulling him close. “I take what I want.”

“And what is that, Arrik Hux? What in all the hells do you actually want?” Ben didn’t try to pull away, he just met the general’s eyes levelly, meeting his anger head on.

“I want power.” Hux said, voice low. It was honest, absolutely. His shoulders were set, and he tightened his grip in Ben’s shirt. “I want control. I do not want to sleep with you just to pass the time.”

“You want control because it’s always slipping.” Ben narrowed his eyes. “Let go of my shirt,  
Hux.” This, this was what every conversation devolved into. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be this, he whispered furiously to himself. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be that black, hot, thick anger coming up inside him, because today he’d managed to push it down and it had felt so good.

Arrik did, stepping back from Ben, his jaw set. He swallowed, shaking his head. “I want control because everyone wants control.”

“Not everyone is so afraid that they want control of everybody else.” Ben watched him steadily, giving into that strange calm that preceded violence for him. He swallowed and tried to push it down, but Hux’s pale, ice eyes brought it up again.

Hux made a noise, shaking his head. “I’m not afraid.”

Ben said nothing for a moment, then brought his hand up between them. He curved his hand and held it by the general’s face, palm so close to his cheek but not touching.

“Then what do you feel? Should I take a peek?” Ben enunciated every words carefully, pitching his voice low as he held Hux’s eyes. The anger was in his head, a pressure behind his eyes.

Hux shook his head, frowning.

“Don’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Don’t I want control, like everyone else? You said you weren’t afraid.”

Arrik’s jaw tensed and he shook his head once. “It’s my mind. I don’t want you interfering.”

“What do you want me doing? Or can’t you even decide for yourself?” Ben left his hand close to Hux’s skin, letting the man feel the slight draw of the Force.

“You’re not in a place to take direction,” Hux said quietly, staring at Ben. “I don’t want you to do anything but allow me to go back to my rooms.”

The rage was white hot, all of that tarry anger ignited in him. Ben’s fingers tightened, the urge to hurt, to crush, to choke running up and down his arm like unstable electricity. It was an almost visible struggle for him to step back, to force his hand down by his side.

“Then go.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t forget your bottle.”

“What would you look for?” Arrik asked quietly. He didn’t want to push Ben away too forcefully, just enough to rebuff his advances. Ben didn’t look away from his face.

“Answers,” he replied in a hushed voice. “What brought you here? What guides your hands? What makes you say the things you say?”

“You want to know me.” Hux’s own voice was just as soft, his eyes darting across Ben’s face. “You want my history, to know everything that comprises who I am.” He shook his head, swallowing, his mouth dry. “I can’t give that to you.”

“Why? Why not? It’s just us here. No one else to hear us. To know that you did it.” Ben leaned in, mouth close to Hux’s ear. “To know you let go.”

Hux shook his head again. “Not here.”

Ben heard, or felt, that subtle promise. _Somewhere else._

He stepped back away from the general, still watching his face.

“Good night, general.”

“I expect my pad and rum returned.” Hux gestured, turning towards the door. It opened at his hand and he walked across the foyer, opening up his own private berths, calling across the small room. “Good night, Ben.”

Ben watched him without moving, without saying anything. He wanted him dead. He wanted him standing right there. Finally he raised a hand and closed the door between them. Captain Ben Solo would have laughed and walked back to the table to toss back more of that rum. It twisted him inside to realize he wasn’t that man anymore, that he knew himself less than he ever had before.

There was nothing to do, as the two weeks passed by on their journey to Arkanis, but to let more of that man die under Snoke’s tutelage and build up the part of himself that he did understand. The part that was steadily increasing power, the part of him lost for hours in old records that mentioned the abilities of ancient Sith lords though not how to accomplish them, in hours logged between the sim pods and the actual TIEs, in taking fierce pride and pleasure when he and Hux still met at the range and he let the general shoot at him again and again and again, as though quiet conversations had never happened, as though this was the fullest extent of their relationship, Hux firing bolt and bolt for him to deflect back so close to Hux’s face the man had to feel the energy crackling by his ear.

He also, once or twice, caught Jahnavi Bant’s elbow as she was coming off her shift, when he was still in his flight suit. She didn’t complain about his sweat damp forehead against her bare thigh in the secret nooks near the hangar that she took him to. He guessed they were well used. She continued to call him “Captain,” even moaned it when she leaned her head back. He wasn’t surprised by how quiet she was; he himself knew the importance of a hushed liaison, and in a ship this packed and this strict, every officer, trooper, pilot, and cook must have known. She liked that last lingering feel of the Force running up her spine before he left her, and she always smiled at him with her green, green eyes (they reminded him of the soft hills of Yavin IV) wide open.

It was a shock to wake up at the start of a cycle and see the notification already blinking on his datapad. _Shuttle for Arkanis in four hours. Be prepared to disembark._

He supposed he was as prepared as he was going to be. Hux met him outside of his rooms, nodding once before walking with Ben to the hanger where the _Javelin_ was kept. Phasma met them at the shuttle, and the trio boarded.

Hux’s uniform was pressed, his greatcoat hung about his shoulders snugly, and his entire person presented command. This wasn’t just his home planet, this was his planet. He refused to think of any place as ‘home’, even the _Finalizer_ was just his. He was confident, poised. Hux knew that as soon as he stepped off the _Finalizer_ he would become an extension of the legacy that his father had created, that Brendol Hux had built the Academy from nothing.

But Brendol was gone, and in his place was a man smarter, stronger, more determined to establish himself. Hux would not stay a lackey forever, and he felt it so keenly as the _Javelin_ left the Star Destroyer, heading down towards the misty, swamp-ridden, star-forsaken planet that held the formative years of Arrik’s childhood.

Ben was busy trying to perfect the roll of the cuff of his jacket during a good part of the descent, but it was impossible for him to miss the mood in the shuttle. Phasma, as always, was impassive. Hux was still and perfect as though he was posing for the inevitable statue that would be on the academy grounds one day, but Ben felt the emotions roiling inside him, around him. It made his cuff seem more important than it was. He’d changed back into his own clothes; they’d been washed and mended with careful neat stitches. Along with the bag slung over his shoulder, they were the only things he’d brought with him onto the _Finalizer_ , and they were the only things he was taking. He’d even left the bottles of liquor he’d snuck from the _Javelin_ on his initial flight; they were lined up neatly on the low table in the main room of his berth, beside the TIE pilot helmet he’d been loathe to leave behind.

He glanced over at Hux finally; the silence was oppressive and he felt the nerves he’d suppressed starting to twinge.

“So, when we land? Is there something I should do? Say? Something traditional? Something I should not do, so I don’t offend anyone?” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out in front of himself.

“It is a military base,” Hux mused, looking over at Ben, eyebrows going up. “I would recommend you not yell ‘fire’ in the mess hall.”

Ben snorted and looked over at Phasma. She made no sound and he couldn’t tell if she had changed her expression at all behind the chrome helmet. Honestly, he had no idea what expression she was wearing at all. He looked back to Hux and grinned.

“If that’s the only rule, maybe I’ll do okay.”

“It’s certainly a good place to start.”

Ben spread his hands philosophically. “I’ll see what I can do, though I can’t promise anything.” He sat up and leaned to look out of the shuttle window. The cloud cover was so thick, he couldn’t see down to the planet surface at all. “Looks to be a beautiful day on sunshiny Arkanis!”

Hux made a noise, looking out the bay window as they descended slowly. The fog was thick, and the oceans (marked only by the large shadows on the planet’s surface) disappeared as they approached the inland military academy.

“Get used to the weather,” Hux muttered, watching their descent carefully. He took a deep breath, facing forward, fixing a small piece of his hair that fell out of place. “I doubt it will change at all. It’s the beginning of the rainy season.”

“Well, on the bright side, rainy season implies there’s also a not-rainy season, right?” Ben tried, keeping his eyes on the clouds as though something would pierce them eventually, like the spires of Coruscant which rose up above the low cloud cover of the planet.

“Unfortunately not,” Hux muttered. The _Javelin_ began to make its descent, and through the dense fog came flashing red lights that led the shuttle into the massive bay. As they got closer it was apparent that the lights were more like lasers, built specifically to penetrate the thick Arkanis weather. Ben found that he was holding his breath. He had no idea what to expect, no matter what Hux had said, no matter what he knew of Arkanis from his studies or his mother’s complaints about their various representatives in the Senate. He sat up to watch through the bay window, wanting to see something. Some sign that there was more to this entire planet than dark, thick clouds.

The bay was connected to a massive structure, something that had a wide base that quickly expanded, creating a oblique dome-like structure with four wings. It seemed to Ben as if one of the structures of Cloud City had been grounded and then made more imposing, its base built up and expanded into cascading terraces. Behind the dense, well-gardened walls that led to the base of the structure, there were long rows that could have been warehouses, but seemed too brightly lit, and there was activity in between the lines of the structures. Ben made a noise as the building emerged slowly and then all at once, spreading out before them as they approached. He glanced over at the other passengers. Obviously Phasma’s reaction to their first sight of Arkanis was a mystery, so he turned to watch Hux’s expression.

The General watched the buildings rise up and he felt something like pride and something like disgust. This may have been his father’s, but he had given true voice to the vision. This entire Academy was his.

More of the low, wide domed structures dotted the landscape, four total, creating a massive campus. Slowly the _Javelin_ approached the bay, attached to one of the dome-like structures, and landed, the passengers inside the shuttle barely feeling the shift. Ben was on his feet almost immediately, then he changed his posture to slouch a little more. He didn’t want to see too eager, so he made sure the collar of his jacket was lying flat, then that his bag was exactly where he liked it to lie against the back of his leg. He had, of course, buckled on his holster, with a charged blaster. He waited and made sure he didn’t look at either of the two First Order officers. He didn’t want to be seen as the kid who wanted to go out to play more than anyone else did.

Hux glanced at Ben, eyebrows up. He smirked slightly, stepping forward as the ramp slowly descended. Ben gestured for Phasma to walk ahead of him, bowing slightly and grinning at her (she’d flipped him onto the mat good and hard that morning) before following her down the ramp with a gait that he fully intended to be taken as a swagger.

As they exited the shuttle, there was a call of ‘Attention!’ and a snapping of heels. As Hux descended, the full complement of the graduating class of the Academy flanked the dully lit walkway from the ramp to high entrance of the main fourth-year dome. Ben blinked and took a deep breath as he looked down the long rows of light-grey cadet’s uniforms.

Hux saluted, almost casually, and the cadets relaxed into parade rest. The officers that stood in front of the cadets stepped forwards as the General walked along the walkway, and he managed to shake all of their hands before saluting the acting Commandant. Ben trailed behind, knowing how out of place he looked.

“General Hux, it’s an honor to have you, as always.” The white-haired man smiled slightly, extending his hand towards Hux.

“Commandant Sage, good to see you as well.” Hux said, smiling slightly. It was polite, and despite the fact that he outranked Sage, the man was older, and Hux respected him. The Academy had only grown under their dual auspices, the officers sharper and more educated, the troopers stronger and faster, more obedient. Hux turned slightly, looking over at Phasma and Ben.

“You remember Captain Phasma, of course.”

“She needs no introduction!” Sage stepped forward to shake her hand and then looked curiously at Ben, the only man out of uniform in the whole compliment.

“This is Ben Solo. He will be our guest here for a few days as he awaits transport.”

“Ah, well,” Sage said, his eyes widening. The name was not unrecognized. “We are pleased to have you as well, Mister Solo.”

Ben nodded to the other man as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“It’s good to know you too, sir,” he said politely, nodding again.

Sage nodded, taking Ben’s hand and giving him a smile. “Of course!” The commandant turned back to Hux and nodded, taking a step towards the larger structure.

“I’ll walk with you to your accommodations; it has, of course, been prepared for your arrival.”

Ben licked his lips and took a look around again, barely turning his head. He didn’t want to stare, but the sea of uniforms was more than he’d expected. He had no idea what this body of students represented. The whole school? Just a portion? (A large portion?) He had no way to guess, but he felt with a pit in his stomach that this wouldn’t be the last show of power he would see at this mysterious Academy.

Hux allowed the Commandant to go first, and he looked back at Ben for a second, radiating confidence and self-assuredness before he turned, following Sage. Arkanis Academy wasn’t home, but it was the closest thing he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it is!! the next installment, as you might have guessed, is **_Arkanis_**!
> 
> We do have it all written, and it will be posted weekly, and we're just editing and refining.
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! the support for this fic is really fantastic. comments and kudos are always very much appreciated, and we love hearing from you! Let us know what you want to see in the next installment...and we might let you know if you're on the right track. ; ) 
> 
> Again, thanks so much, and be on the lookout for Arkanis, chapter one, next week.


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